


Murder happens like clockwork

by Adeline_Hatter



Series: Friends to Enemies to Lovers is Very Very Sexy [5]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Arranged Marriage, Blood and Violence, Boxing & Fisticuffs, But I'm actually okay with that, Childhood friends to enemies to lovers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, First Kiss, Murder, Mysterious Death, Slow Burn, This isn't as historically accurate as it COULD be, comments fuel me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:27:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 36,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23529895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adeline_Hatter/pseuds/Adeline_Hatter
Summary: Miss Theta.S.Lungbarrow and Lord Koschei Oakdown have been engaged since they were twelve officially, anyone you asked would claim them to be absolutely smitten with one another.But few saw the truth that lay underneath, the truth that they rocked back and forth on the pendulum of hatred.Now in close quarters and their wedding on the horizon, the two find themselves in quite the predicament.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), The Doctor/The Master (Doctor Who), Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan), Yasmin Khan/Ryan Sinclair
Series: Friends to Enemies to Lovers is Very Very Sexy [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1609696
Comments: 83
Kudos: 162





	1. Lying is the best thing you can do, when faced with marriage

_ Men always want to be a woman’s first love - Women like to be a man’s last romance.  _

_ \- Oscar Wilde _

* * *

Weddings were torrid affairs in her eyes, sometimes they were gaudy and loud, other times they were annoyingly quiet in all manners and faith, sometimes they were held in the spring or the summer, this one was held in the winter.

Some too big, some too small, sometimes no love to be found in the crowd at all. 

The young Miss Lungbarrow played witness to another kind of wedding in her life, the kind that seemed to happen every two or so years, when the mourning period was over and the bride in question was greeted by another engagement. 

It had been nearly ten years since she’d attended the bride’s first wedding, back when she was seventeen and fresh out of finishing school- A fate Miss Lungbarrow had avoided just barely by being kicked out during her first year -to be married to a man who had seen better days by order of her parents. 

Now, at twenty-seven years of age, Miss Theta S Lungbarrow sat and watched as her friend, Lady Ushas Miasma, married her fifth husband, another man who stood and looked a little haunted but unquestionably in love at the altar.

Well, infatuated really, whilst Lady Ushas smiled a little too widely and fluttered her lashes, giving off the appearance of a beautiful woman in love, a blushing bride who would most likely find herself a widow within the year. 

Theta, sincerely hoped she would never attend her own wedding, a thought that was dashed with every moment that passed in her Mother’s presence and the constant hinting. 

Just like now, as her Mother stared at her with an impatient look in her eyes as Ushas said “I do” to… Theta couldn’t remember his name nor would she until his inevitable funeral. 

This dream to never attend a wedding for herself, was held on one thing and one thing alone. 

Pretended infatuation of a childhood friend, whom her parents had engaged her to at the age of twelve. 

This dream of hers, was hinged on this man. 

The dream rested, on Koschei Oakdown, who sat across from her in another pew, sporting a black eye. 

A black eye she had been the cause of. 

* * *

  
  


“I do hope Lord Oakdown is doing well, that eye of his has taken quite the beating.” Lady Ushas… Something or other spoke next to her, holding a flute of champagne delicately to her lips, sipping it and then lifting it away in the next moment, her new husband talking somewhere to the right of them with some business associates as dancing took place across the hall, “It isn’t a surprise of course, boxing is such a vulgar sport- His opponent must have had some motivation.” 

Theta sipped her own champagne and avoided Ushas’s attempt at eye contact, as well as giving her friend an answer. 

Ushas, glanced at her knowingly, “Did you enjoy your evening yesterday my dear friend?” 

“Yes, I read at home.” 

“I didn’t ask what you did, Miss Lungbarrow.” A smile curled over her lips, as Theta felt eyes glare at her back, “Might I suggest however, that you attempt to look less sheepish in the mentioning of boxing? I know it can be quite violent and an activity us ladies of refinement should never even consider but it isn’t as if it is a new thing for discussion.” 

She kept her gaze between the floor and Ushas, “It… It’s just a sport I never considered to be popular these days is all Lady…” 

“Johnson.” 

“Lady Johnson, I didn’t know you were fond of the sport.” Theta smoothed her hands over the blue silk of her dress, a hand-me-down of her Mother’s kept in pristine condition and updated for the latest fashion, “You never struck me as someone who kept up with that sort of stuff.” 

Ushas raised her eyebrow, then tilted her flute back again, “I’m not, though Lord Johnson has a tendency to go for fun alongside a friend of his- You know northerners, being one yourself.” 

Theta did, nodding as she felt the eyes moving around the room but still focusing on her, he must be dancing, “I hear their particular clubs are a little rougher of course.” 

“I hear they’re near impossible to find a single shred of order in!” Her friend’s lips quirked in humour again, “Honestly, I do so hope no lady of quality ever goes there to fight- Imagine the scandal! Imagine if you met your future husband there as an opponent and hit him, leaving a mark he must wear for a week at least!” 

Theta wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt again, “Yes, one can barely even consider that possibility, the scandal if she were discovered would be great.” 

“Very great.” 

They stared at each other for a long moment. 

“I do hope you aren’t ignoring Lord Oakdown because he has only just returned, reuniting with one’s first love and betrothed is such a difficult affair…” Ushas passes her now empty glass off on a tray as she navigates her wedding dress, “I must admit I wasn’t anticipating my wedding would be the first event you saw him again at, I thought he would at least pay your family’s home a visit.” 

Koschei hadn’t even written to say he was returning. 

“I’m sure he hasn’t found the time.” Theta states it, then realises that even she sounds unconvinced as she stands straighter, pushing a stray piece of her hair out of her face and behind her ear- What she would give to cut it -and looking towards where the aforementioned was stood baying farewell to Miss Grant whom had been his dance partner, “He’ll come to see us eventually, I know my Mother is eager to start planning.” 

That was sadly not a lie, not a lie at all and Theta loathed the implication that she could end up married after all. 

Ushas took her by the hand, then leant in close to whisper, “I know you loath marriage, but it does come with some freedom my friend- Why look at me, I have money and estates that remain mine even when I enter into another marriage.” 

“Freedom?” Theta echoes in a question as her friend nods, “What of freedom is there in being married to someone? Don’t they usually consider you their property after vows are exchanged?” 

Her friend’s grip was gentle as she let go, “Husbands are easy to control, besides, one man saying he has a claim over you over the world ignoring you is a step up… Though Lord Oakdown isn’t one to lay claim to anyone.” 

Theta did not admit her friend was right in that last regard, she watches Koschei as he stands straighter, plain enough suit with a rich purple cavat that complimented the warm brown of his skin within the lighting of the room, his eyes cut towards her and she looks away immediately upon seeing the bruising. 

“Only thing he ever claims to own are his fortunes and his lands…” Ushas tilts her head, “At least you know the man your family will make you marry to hold up an age old agreement.” Her voice is quieter there, a memory being chased from her brain as her smile softens and saddens before returning to the bright cheery edge that is utterly fake and made to disguise her. 

She glances one last time at Koschei, before she lifts Ushas’s other hand, “We should enjoy your reception and stop talking of my future marriage, it is your day after all.”    
  
“Yes, quite, I believe we are cutting the cake soon.” Her smile is less fake now, always a fan of cake was the new Lady… Johnson? “I dare say it will be the last grand cake I eat for a long while, just like this is the last party I’ll be able to throw this year…” She sighed deeply, letting go of Theta’s hands and walking away. 

Theta blinked… Lord… Whatever his name, really was not going to last at all. 

* * *

  
  


His eye stings, he finds the cause of it glaring at him out of the corner of her eye. 

He glares back, eyes only moving away from her for a mere moment, to someone of a lesser mind it would look like an eager groom completely infatuated with his intended over someone who had been punched at an- admittedly illegal -boxing match the night before. 

Lady Ushas Johnson glanced his way every now and again as she spoke to Miss Lungbarrow in quiet tones, her usual knowing smile on her lips and Koschei watched this as he returned Miss Grant back to her fiance with a small flourish and greeted Mr Jones as he left.

He walked away to avoid most of Ushas’  _ fifth  _ wedding festivities, it wasn’t like he had anyone here he really wanted to talk to, he’d already danced with the only other person in the room he could stand a conversation that lasted longer than two minutes so his options were running out. 

Lord Koschei Oakdown loathed to think of the day when his own wedding would arrive, when he’d have to play nice with members of families and society he would rather return to the country just to avoid, spend some time in his gardens with his poppy fields of flowers and cats that lay awaiting him. 

But, Ushas was a friend and he’d just returned from investigating where his money was going with the British Army in particular, satisfied to find that everything was in order… 

Before that he’d been doing everything he could since leaving Eton to avoid the ultimate presence of wedding planning, of a wedding and of a wife. 

Though, he feared he could no longer avoid it. 

He had been surprised to find that the boxer who worked their way across London had not been a man, he wonders how on Earth Miss Lungbarrow had ever considered the possibility of going unrecognised in what had been her disguise. 

The attempt had been laughable, why he could have disguised himself better with a leaf and a mop then she did with a loose shirt and a cap, if she was going to hide she should have at least put more effort into it. 

Granted, she could pass for younger than she was as a man, easy to mistake… Unless you had spent time together until torn apart to go to school and grow up as they went, letters far and few between as it became apparent to him that neither of them craved this union of families. 

He looked her way again and her eyes shifted quickly out of the line of his gaze, avoiding it if she could help it. 

Maybe he should have attempted to call in on her family yesterday, not to see her of course, but to hold out an olive branch as it were for a peaceful moment of union in the sea of terrifying implications. 

Two heads working out how to get out of this engagement would have been better than just his and Thet- Miss Lungbarrow was undoubtedly clever and intelligent amongst their peers who were undoubtedly… Not. 

It had always been this way after all. 

But, he would concede that the new Lady Johnson was more intelligent then he could ever fathom, seeing as she seemed to have already made the connection between Miss Lungbarrow and his eye if her glances were anything to go by. 

Koschei observed Lord Johnson as he laughed with his associates nearby to Lady Johnson and Miss Lungbarrow, pitying the man. 

He was a reasonable fellow with ties to the government and it was going to be such a shame to attend his funeral in a few months' time, he wondered after the cause of death… That being said the one thing for certain was that Ushas often had the most terrible of luck when it came to husbands. 

He makes a mental note to ask after Lord Johnson’s preferred type of flower arrangement to send on the day. 

One did hate to send unfavoured flowers to a funeral.

* * *

He drinks three flutes of champagne, eats a slice of bright and bouncy sponge that does nothing to soak it up and looks out after her again. 

She’s not accepted a single dance from anyone so far, nor has she gone hunting for one and in the hour that has passed her Mother has returned to her side and is looking pointedly between them both with a glare. 

It is not that Lady Lungbarrow isn’t pleasant of course, conversation with her could be decently mild and make for passing of time, she likes to gossip every once in a while and no one could blame her for hunting down respectable marriages for her children.

What he did not like about her stemmed from the fact that she never beat around the bush, pointed in her pursuit of his keeping the agreement their Fathers had made fifteen years ago now and how her eldest daughter wasn’t yet married despite having a pre arranged courtship. 

Koschei busied himself by half conversations being spoken with those whose names escaped him, though finding himself in the presence of Millenia and Rallon, a couple who had been introduced to each other by Ushas at another party- He mostly remembered the instant regret that followed the woman after she made the match -who married last spring and he saw at almost every wedding the bride had had in the past. 

Millenia and Rallon make small talk with him, but eye his gaze towards Miss Lungbarrow with smugness and knowing- Which meant he was acting well, before they both bid him adieu and led themselves away with secret smiles. 

He checks his pocket watch, he would stay for half an hour more before disappearing into the outside world and returning to his townhouse in the city for the evening. 

Miss Lungbarrow looks at him when she thinks he isn’t looking at her, it is this passing gaze of hazel eyes and the slightest hint of regret, his face throbs at the memory of the evening before, how she hadn’t even said a word, how her eyes had widened and her fist had raised at the speed of light before he could really process and say something and suddenly… 

He’d been down on the floor whilst she was declared the winner, there had been a thrill of excitement and satisfaction in watching her walk away with a quick glance over her shoulder to his body on the floor as he sat up. 

Quick as a flash, he meets her eyes and holds her gaze. 

There is such a moment, where he thinks that perhaps… 

No, there was not a chance, neither of them desired to be married. 

* * *

There are times that Theta greatly regrets that her younger sisters are not old enough to be out in society as of yet, nor that her cousins who live out in the moors of Ireland could ever make the trip down to Sheffield or to London in seasons. 

She greatly regrets this, because Irving is in Paris investigating art and she is left to share a carriage ride home with their Mother. 

“Lord Oakdown’s eyes hardly left you all evening!” Her Mother speaks with a soft and direct edge, “I know I have my doubts about making you wait for marriage, especially when there have been some offers over the years, but the way Lord Oakdown looks at you my dear… There is not a doubt he is in love with you.” 

_ Wonderful,  _ Theta thinks, looking out of the window into the busy London street as night starts to fall,  _ Mother you are delusional sometimes, that man loathes me with every inch of his being.  _

Outloud she speaks differently, “Oh, quite indeed Mama, I do hope I still hold his affection.” 

She plays the part of young blossoming woman still in love with her childhood sweetheart mostly because it sways her parents from hunting down other matches for her, she may not like Koschei Oakdown very much but at least he was not, as Ushas had put it earlier, a stranger in her life. 

Theta buries the urge to grimace at the memory of her sudden punch when she saw him walk into the ring, when she realised he’d recognised her and so she had moved and punched him, she had been aiming for his cheek but hit his eye and watched him fall. 

She would not admit she thought she saw him smile, absolutely not, because he had not smiled at her, he’d been on the floor thoroughly beaten and soon to be bruised.

There had been no excitement in his face. 

And there had not been a flutter in her chest when she saw his face and recognised her friend. 

She was sure he loathed her, if not for that, for her last letter to him nearly five years prior. 

“If we start planning soon, we could have a summer wedding, a summer wedding for the first time in decades for the Lungbarrow family, you’re cousins could travel down, your brother would be back from America... “ She tunes her Mother out, a familiar song and dance at this point. 

Theta stares out of the window as they go, they would stay the week in London, just her and her Mother with the townhouse’s staff before returning to their family estate just outside of Sheffield, she planned on going riding when she got back. 

She thinks of Ushas and the country estate and town house that would be added to her friend’s wealth in a matter of moments in time, wondering if the morning will bring news of a death or if husband number five would live longer, there had to be some diversity after all. 

Her fingers tap on her wrist, remembering the gaze he had held with her own, wide and almost black eyes staring into her own across a crowded room. 

There was such a moment when she’d thought that maybe, there was a possibility of chance…

No, there was not a chance, neither of them desired to be married. 

Not to anyone. 

Let alone each other. 


	2. Time moves slowly when one has anxiety- Or boredom, it is most likely boredom.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anxiety and Boredom, Time and Dinner. 
> 
> All things that remain interesting.

_"Boredom always precedes a period of great creativity."_

_\- Robert M Pirsig_

* * *

The next week is spent in anxious hell, though it is not her own anxiety.

Theta respects that her Mother wants to see her settled before anything else can happen, respects that the original engagement was set in place because her Father had assumed she would grow up to be a wild card and damaging to the family name but… The anxiety was not worth it. 

She debates it every single day at breakfast, just the mere mention, just offhandedly with nary a care or thought to it, to inform her Mother that she did not want to get married. 

But the memory of the yelling match her Mother and older brother had had following his own statement of intention to never marry and her Mother’s reaction when she arrived home throughedly expelled from her finishing school keeps that thought at bay. 

Lord Oakdown does not grace their doorway or parlour once in the days that follow the wedding, he does send a card, but when Theta gets to read it she can see it is riddled with reluctance to even contact her at all. 

She leaves it in the parlour, before descending the steps down into the lower levels of her family’s townhouse in London, flicking the lightswitch on in the small room as she walks in, finally out of the confines of a dress and into some proper breeches and a loose shirt. 

Her boots sound satisfyingly on the stone below, hearing the sing of the lights above her head, one of the only rooms in the house to have been fitted after she’d pestered her parents half into death for the chance to have her own home filled with these ingenious inventions. 

That was going to be one of the downsides when her and her Mother departed back to the family estate, she’d have to say good bye to her ease of just flicking a switch and hearing that bright hum that electricity produced. 

She’d waved Donna away this morning in favour of dressing and styling herself, knowing that leaving the house was not going to happen as they had no prior commitments or invitations to answer, Donna had raised her eyebrows but said it was her own funeral either way.

Theta had plaited her hair back in a french braid, the urge to cut it getting stronger and stronger, she would do it if her Mother mentioned planning one more time, just to spite her.

She did want to cut it, it got in the way when she was working after all, metallic gears click as she taps her device lying on the table, something that would toast bread over the fire without requiring someone to hold and turn it.

What her Mother always failed to realise is that Theta had better things to think about and do than marriage. 

Inventing was one of them, tinkering with whatever idea had crossed her mind this time around, oil would grease her skin by the end of the day sometimes before she was thrown into a bath filled with lavender then being dressed for dinner in what was either chosen by Donna or chosen by her Mother. 

She could successfully avoid the outside world, social interaction and not have to watch or catch herself hurting people’s feelings.

Including her own for that matter, it was easier to pull on a pair of gloves and pick up a screwdriver, working around tiny catches and latches, little creaking gears of clocks and pocket watches.    
  


The Lungbarrow family originally came from an offshoot of the British Monarchy, old money and connections that ran as deep as water in the world around them, one of her great Grandfather had been the marriage partner of an illegitimate heir to the throne all the way back to the Georges in their history. 

No one within the family would ever see the throne of course, however with cousins that spanned the entirety of her Majesty’s empire around the world, everyone had different sections that delighted in different things- Though as a whole the family tended to steer away from politics.

Her section of the family made watches, it wasn’t where most of the money that flowed in and out came from but it was undoubtedly Theta’s favourite end of things, all of the little projects and delicate steps to tell time. 

Her Father had taken her when she was much younger with her brother to see the workshop, she’d been infatuated with it all ever since, though her Mother astonished it as ‘Unladylike’ to be covered in oil and smell like a factory, but her Father let her come and work at the workshops anyway, she took over sometimes when he was away on business.

But she loved it… Gears and trinkets and everything in between. 

This was where Theta felt most at home. 

* * *

  
  


The Oakdowns prided themselves in titles and politics. 

They pride themselves in their estates and their incomes, they’re words and fingers in pies of the military, wherever they could reach within governments and gain control of things to each their own with a rich history such as theirs.

Koschei believes them all to be the most boring people capable of living, he enjoyed the work… Talking with his extended family however was never entertaining. 

He wasn’t blind, he knew his cousins didn’t want him there as much as he didn’t want to be there at all, but it was unavoidable since gaining his Father’s title upon his death. 

He’d wanted it when he was still in school, terribly and badly but now it seems daunting to deal with and not worth the income he gains by doing so. 

His Uncle drones on nearby, talking about his exhibition to Australia and how he disliked sailing, wishing someone would invent something much better to travel great distances. 

All he wants is to get out of here honestly, maybe go and take in another boxing match- Or arrange some sort of night out to the Gentleman’s guilds, what he wouldn’t give for a chance to talk about science or mechanics instead of- 

“Koschei, you will be upholding the arrangement with the Lungbarrows will you not?” He lets his attention snap to his Uncle as he smiles, “I always heard their eldest daughter was a wild card- Many marriage proposals turned down over the years, because she claims favour for you and you alone.” His lips quirk as if the idea of anyone favouring Koschei is ridiculous in itself.

Theta.S.Lungbarrow didn’t hold any affection for him, if her ability to punch him in the face and walk away was anything to it, she’d liked him well enough when they were children and in the letters that they sent back and forth… Until the incident when they were seventeen of course.

If he wanted to get out of the arrangement, he just had to give them the answer they all wanted, he would have to say something now, not later…

“I do intend to, it was what my Father wished for me to do before he died, I will uphold that.” Not out of a sense of familial obligation, but because they would no doubt force him into a completely different arrangement with someone far less agreeable then Miss Lungbarrow, “I was going to reach out to the family once we were all back within Sheffield, it’s where her branch of the family mainly operates out of and currently it’s only her and her Mother in town.” 

Some of his cousins nodded in understanding, but his Uncle’s gaze is steady, “Why not go see her now? If you are just as devoted to her as she is to you?”

“Because she will become more devoted to me if I am absent,” Another lie, Theta has never been devoted to him, “besides, we both have long and busy work schedules, I have the military, my perspective campaign to think about and she has-”

His Uncle chooses this moment to interrupt, “Timepieces, doesn’t the local branch of the Lungbarrow family deal with time?” He grins, as if he is telling a joke. 

Indignation flares up in his gut, “Yes.” He replies, closing his eyes for a moment before opening them and smiling easily, his hand pressing to his inner breast pocket absently,“But, enough about my intended, gentleman, I do believe we were discussing where our vote for the new Prime Minister was going to go for this year, given how I am still too far from enacting my own campaign.”

This sets off the conversation anew, as one man suggests one name and another tells him off and tries to get a word in for another name entirely. 

Koschei sits straighter in his chair and listens as intently as he can, bored out of his wits. 

* * *

  
  


It’s easy to find the pieces for the watch in her hands, she gave up on the toast thing a few minutes- Hours? -ago, opening a draw and finding the dainty little contraption she’d been working on instead, turning it over in her hands.

Second nature is what she calls her skill in this, instincts too, she just knew almost instantly where every piece would go, each cog, each tiny spring and screw. 

There is no question or doubt in her movements, how she places them in the contraption is an easy stretch of time. 

She will get so wrapped up in the work that the very time in her fingertips can slip away into the things she’s creating, like she’s sacrificing years of her life just so a watch can keep the correct time for five minutes. 

“If you lean any further over that you are going to fall on that poor watch.” It’s a miracle that she doesn’t do just that when Donna speaks in the doorway, she hadn’t even heard her on the stairs, “It’s five o’clock, thought I would come and get you for your bath before the Lady of the house came down herself.”

Theta almost laughs at the idea of her Mother coming down to her little workshop, “I just have one more cog to place in it before it’s finished, promise.” 

“Come up and have a bath or I really will get ya Mum.” 

Huffing, Theta places the watch carefully down and stands up, “Lavender bath?”    
  
“Yes.” Donna raises her eyebrows, “Don’t get snippy with me either, I’ve picked out a nicer pair of breeches for dinner, then it’s off to bed.” 

Admittedly, bed and a clean set of clothes sound heavenly to her. 

* * *

Predictably, her Mother sighs loudly at the sight of her daughter in the black breeches, stolen from Irving’s old room upstairs that houses much of his old clothing. 

Dinner is waiting on the table, a lovely roasted chicken cut and portioned in the center of the dining table and Theta sits, starting to help herself.

“You haven’t done anything that would jeopardize your chances at this match have you Theta?” Her Mother’s words are quick and to the point, her eyes returning to her own plate in front of her, knife and fork in hand, “There must be a reason we haven’t heard from Lord Oakdown.” 

_ Why yes, actually I have,  _ “Of course not, Mother.”  _ I punched him in the face, I gave him a black eye… Also I’ve called him a choice number of things in letters over the years.  _

“Good, good, so we should hear from him hopefully upon our return to Sheffield.” There’s a hopeful little lilt in her Mother’s voice that stops her from saying anything in the negative about it all, “What do you think the likelihood of a summer wedding is?”

She had the chance here, the real chance to tell her Mother the truth.

“I think there’s a good chance.” 

But she doesn’t, because she doesn’t like the disappointment that she sees in her Mother’s eyes on some long days, the disappointment at her choice in clothing and work. 

Theta can’t really bear to see it after twenty-seven years of experiencing it, so maybe this could be the one thing… The one instance where she didn’t disappoint them at all.

Even if this thing was marriage.

* * *

  
  


When he finally pulls himself through the front door of his modest Notting Hill townhouse, there’s warm soup covered up on the dining table and he remembers to add a little extra into his town cook’s payment for this visit of his. 

He pulls his pocket watch out to check the time, skimming the initials on the hood and forgoing the removal of his jacket and throwing his hat in the general direction of his settee in the living room before settling in at his table.

A fire lies crackling in the fireplace in the living room and he can hear it, as he uncovers the soup and reaches for one of the bread rolls that have been left out with it. 

The plan was to eat this and then settle himself into bed, finish off his work and then take the midday train back to Sheffield, where his coach would be waiting for him at the station to take him the last lengths back to the estate he owned. 

He hadn’t been back in a little while, but he had to think about how to go about the system he had been placed into, the engagement and future marriage. 

Which meant he had to talk to Miss Lungbarrow properly about it, come up with a plan and a proposition, a way for him to survive this with his status intact, his reputation as solid as Buckingham Palace in design. 

He would have to make Miss Lungbarrow see things the same way he did, or something resembling it enough that they could work in tandem and get out of the engagement with ease. 

Collecting up the last dregs of soup with the roll in his hands, he mulls this over carefully. 

She had punched him, not to mention the proof of the things she’d called him over the years- Not that he had been any more graceful in his insults -were available via the letters all collected up in an dark oak box on his bookshelf upstairs locked up tight to keep them out of anyone else’s hands. 

This was going to take thought, effort and more time than he suspects they have, pressure from her family must have caused the slight stutter in public appearance of hers, when they’d been children she had never hesitated to yell at him.

Maybe, she’d been being polite in the favour of pleasing Ushas and keeping the drama to a minimum, still, they had to talk.

Koschei knew he would have to corner and surprise her in order to actually get the ball rolling on the conversation, so maybe arranging a visit to her workshop would be the best course of action or maybe it wouldn’t be.

Though, he couldn’t exactly predict how she would react to his appearance there suddenly.

He wonders distantly, if she will be there tomorrow after he gets off the train in Sheffield and if he should make the effort to drop by when he arrives. 

Time would have to tell on that front. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Murder happens like clockwork! This fic will update every friday bar the week of June 1st (2020) which I suppose doesn't really bother anyone reading this fic in the future... 
> 
> If you are reading this fic in the future, past that date, mind giving us some updates? 
> 
> Remember to leave Kudos and Comments, they are the two things that fuel my motivation and produce the serotonin needed for me to keep on writing!


	3. Never linger on travelling, only makes one dream of polite conversations.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barely any travel... But finally a conversation?

_“Tricks and treachery are the practice of fools that don’t have brains enough to be honest.”_

_Benjamin Franklin_

* * *

Theta would never claim to be an expert in travelling etiquettes, but carriages had to be out of fashion by this juncture of time.

“What will it take to convince you that trains are good modes of transportation?” She asks her Mother whilst she is helped out of the carriage by the footman at the other end of the journey, their home up above them built of grand brickwork and pebbled pathways, “I promise I won’t hang off the back of another one in my best dress.”

Lady Lungbarrow doesn’t acknowledge the comments with more than a simple glance, looking at the house and walking towards it, “Come inside Theta.” 

She looks to Donna, who stands next to her, even in her flattest pair of shoes Donna is taller then Theta by one inch, if it was the other person who stood taller by an inch, he would have spent several hours rubbing it in like he’d done as children the moment his growth spurt hit. 

Donna raises her eyebrows back at her, before Theta steels her posture, “Actually, Mother I was going to head into town, it’s only the early afternoon and I want to check on the workshop.”

At this, the footmen scatter slightly, throwing the quickest of looks in Theta’s direction, built out of pity and disbelief as her Mother turns to look at her, “Theta, come inside.” She repeats, significantly less patient as their bags are carried inside.

“I’ll only be a few hours, besides we should let Father know we’ve returned.” 

“I’ll send a messenger.” Her Mother’s tone is clipped and Theta just _knows_ this is the fault of not hearing from Lord Oakdown, that’s all she was good for to her Mother after all, a future wife and never a daughter, “Come inside, we’ll have some tea and you can tell your sisters all about London.” 

Lady Lungbarrow turns back towards the house, climbing up the steps carefully before the doors open, the footmen all look at Theta as they collect up the last of the bags.

One inclines their head back to the carriages, Donna walks forwards after her Mother. 

With a flick of red hair, Donna gestures for her to go. 

Theta climbs back into the carriage, banging her hand against the roof. 

She absolutely does not hear her Mother cry out her name as the horses take off down the driveway.

* * *

  
  
  


There is nothing quite like watching the countryside roll pass through the window of a steam locomotive. 

He’s always found train journeys particularly enjoyable, a faster method of travelling across the country with less purchasing of horses and men to travel with you, luggage stocked away and waiting to be unloaded at the other end. 

They must be nearing Sheffield sooner rather than later, hopefully at least, he didn’t want to spend much more time cooped up in this train carriage after all there was no fun in it after a while.

Koschei _knows_ that technically speaking he should call on Lord Lungbarrow before he even considers seeking Miss Lungbarrow out to talk, but the Lord was almost always a disagreeable force not to mention utterly dull to talk to, man only ever had business in his mind. 

He would also have to sell the man on the lie that Koschei adored his eldest daughter in every single way, he was aware that he didn’t really have to on account of his society, but he’d spent fifteen years pretending to almost everyone save two that he was utterly infatuated with Miss Lungbarrow. 

He had to keep the act going because it was just easier. 

Even if he did hate the woman, pretending to be in love with her would be easy, love wasn’t exactly a hard emotion to fake as Ushas often put it.

This would start with a visit to her workshop when he got off the train, whilst his bags were returned to his manor house in the country just outside of Sheffield. 

A method of surprising her that even she couldn’t avoid. 

Distantly, the countryside starts to become buildings dotting the landscape outside of the tracks, before he bares witness to the start of a train yard until finally, the train stops next to a platform. 

He’ll find the nearest pub with fighting in the basement later, a good drink with some added violence for a show will do wonders for one’s mood. 

That being said, first, he needs to trek across the city towards one clock making workshop that housed the one person he doesn’t _really_ want to talk to, but he was going to do it anyway because one of them might as well look like a mature and responsible person of quality. 

And that was going to be him. 

* * *

  
  


There’s something bright and bustling as everything screeches to attention within the Lungbarrow Watch and Clock Company’s workshops when she pushes open the door to the main floor, turning to take the stairs upwards to her Father’s office two at a time.

She draws attention from the workers below her, a few look up and wave at her as she passes and she does her best to wave back as she lifts her skirts up so she can move a little faster. 

Finally, when she reaches the top floor of the warehouse, she can hear chatter and flicking of paper as she waves to her Father’s secretary, a lovely man who had never had wants for a wife or much else when she spent a little too long lingering on that factor. 

She knocks twice and enters swiftly, dropping into a slight curtsy, “Father, I came to say that Mother and I have made our safe returns-”

“I would have thought your Mother would send a messenger.” He doesn’t even look up as he waves a dismissive hand in her direction, the interruption not uncommon to her at this point, he flicks through the papers in front of him for a moment, “Shouldn’t you be at home resting? It isn’t a short journey by carriage from London to Sheffield.” 

Theta takes that as her cue to approach the desk, “I wanted to come and check on the workshop, I haven’t been here for over a week and the systems in place here are very delicate.” 

“Nothing I can’t handle, besides, the time you spend away will be good practice.” Finally, her Father looks up, a peaceful smile on his face, the kind she knew she’d inherited with it’s natural ease at attempting to put others back on the ground, he resembles her in very small ways, “Your Mother wrote to me with the news, I plan on meeting with Lord Oakdown as soon as he is back in this side of the country.” 

She blinks, “Why will my absence be good practice?” 

“You will have other things to think about soon.” Her Father sets the papers in front of him to the side and stands, he is taller than her by quite a bit, he moves around his desk and sets his hands on her shoulders, that same peaceful smile still on his lips, “You won’t have to worry about a thing my dear, I’ll have all of the details sorted and you will have a wedding to plan.” 

Her Mother was probably already planning it, “What does the wedding have to do with the company?” She persists, looking him in the eyes, “My being married won’t change the commitments I have to our workers, our apprentices, our client-” 

“ _My_ clients, my workers, my apprentices.” He corrects her, though she knows he is wrong, “Soon enough, Theta, you will have a house of your own to run, children to raise and I wouldn’t wish the burden of the company on your shoulders on top of that.”

Theta blinks at her Father, waiting for him to make a point she could actually believe as an argument out of his mouth, “Father, even if I have a different last name and a ring on my finger, I won’t abandon the company, what about when you retire-”  
  
“Then Irving will take it over, it will be good to have him home again.” Her eyebrows furrow, creasing her forehead, Irving didn’t want the company if the amount of time he didn’t spend at _Home_ meant anything to them, “If he doesn’t want it, then control of it will be a good dowry for your sisters.” 

She took a stepback, making him drop his hands on her shoulders and shook her head, reaching up and taking her hat off finally, “Father, no one knows how to run this company better than I do, I find our most promising apprentices-”  
  
“Theta.” His voice is no longer warm, it is curt and it is cold, he places his arms behind his back and deals her a stare that would freeze her in place as a child, “The only reason you have spent as much time at the company as you have is because you were expelled from finishing school and I wanted you to experience an environment where manners and etiquette mattered.” 

She opens her lips to reply but he waves a hand in the air and turns back to his desk. 

“Go home, tell your Mother I’ll be late won’t you? I’m going out to play some cards.” He sat back down, done with the matter and there would be no room to argue with him at this point in time, “I promise you, my daughter, that you will be happy and treated well.”

Oh, she mostly certainly was not _happy._

She curtsies a little more as she turns and makes her way out, she had no plans to return home as she takes the steps back down slowly. 

Widing her way through the work tables was easy enough, she knew the pathways like the back of her hands or the insides of a pocket watch, or the coil in a large steam press like they had in the back for molding the casings. 

There is someone calling her name behind her, though she recognises the tone and knows who it is, she debates turning to look at the young man following her and apologising as he attempts to slip through the same cracks she herself finds. 

“Miss Lungbarrow!” She reaches the door to her own office and pauses, letting her shoulders drop, before raising her posture, “Oh, I caught you- I wanted to talk to you about my quarterly orders, Lord ain’t giving me the time of day.” 

She turns to face Ryan Sinclair with a quickly mustered up smile and her strongest attempt at wide and bright eyes, “Good Afternoon Mr Sinclair.” 

He’s a good lad, this one, she can see it in his eyes and his smile as he holds up the papers in his hands with an expression she used to wear herself once upon a time, with unmistakable wonder in his eyes, “Afternoon, Ma’am, so the quarterly ord- Are you alright?”

Her hands are shaking, she opens the door to her office and throws her hat on her desk, “I’m alright, you know… Dads.” Her chair greets her easily enough as she drops down into it.

Ryan’s nod is in understanding, “Yeah, they’re a handful alright.” He rocks back on his heels for a moment, then steps in after her, “Do you want me to see if Dolores is putting tea on? Do you want me to ask her to bring you some whilst I leave my quarterly reports here on your desk?”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.” She scoops up his papers, flicking through the orderlies as the young man leaves. 

She couldn’t leave the company, she _wouldn’t_ and her Father seemed to underestimate just how much of his stubbornness had been inherited. 

But, she would need money of her own for a lawyer and whilst she did have a sizable salary because of this job, it would all too easily be accessed by her family.

Theta sighs, wondering what she would need… 

A knock connects with her door, “Ryan, you were just here you don’t need to knock.”

“I thought it would be impolite to surprise you again.” Her head snaps up to look at him, standing there hovering in her doorway, “Given how you reacted last time.”

As if her day could get _any_ worse. 

“Hello Lord Oakdown.” She keeps her voice cold, watching him hover in her office doorway as if he’s not entirely sure he’s supposed to be here at all- Which he is not -but he looks over the piles of paper on her desk with a degree of interest that is unmistakable and all too familiar. 

Theta scrambles for the last time she’s seen him in person in the proper sort of setting, boxing matches excluded and all she comes up with is Ushas’ first wedding ten years ago, where they’d parted on less than applicable terms.

She couldn’t recall exactly what had been said between them, but nevertheless it had not been particularly kind back then. 

Present day returns in a swift rush as he is _still_ hovering in her doorway, waiting for her to say something possibly, she wasn’t entirely sure.

“Come in.” She doesn’t stand up, she doesn’t see the point in doing so as blessedly his shoe hits the wooden flooring with a softer sound than it should have probably made, slowly he walks over to stand next to the chair in front of her desk and he hovers again, “Take a seat.” 

He sinks slowly down into the chair, back straight, eyes forwards and removes his hat once sitting to his liking, “I’m sorry to interrupt your day-”  
  
“No you aren’t.” She interrupts him, placing Ryan’s orderlies down in front of her and giving up on any pretense of manners in a single motion of sinking down and back into her chair, fixing him with a stare she reserves purely for him and him alone, “If you were sorry you wouldn’t say it with words, you would just leave it implied before buggering off elsewhere.” 

She watches him calculate his next words, eyes a little wide and mouth a little gaping, “You’re right, I’m not sorry… I just thought I should talk to you over your Father.” 

This does surprise her slightly, “Oh? Why’s that?”

“Marriage doesn’t concern him, nor does your adult life does it?” His head tilts and she mirrors the motion second naturedly, before he snaps it upwards straight again, but she keeps her head in place, “I thought we might meet and discuss our pending nuptials, knowing your parents they’re probably booking a church as we speak.” 

She raises an eyebrow, watching him closely as his fingers shake slightly, twitch really, “Mother is hoping for a summer wedding.” 

“Well, we ought to discuss whether we’re giving her one or not.” Lord Oakdown relaxes himself a bit, though his eyes look over her lack of posture with such a thin line of judgement that her eyes roll all by themselves, “Shouldn’t we? Now’s your chance to be honest with me, tell me to call it off.” 

Theta meets his gaze, for a few moments he keeps it before his eyes flicker off to the side, “Why?”

One word and his gaze returns to hers, “Do you want to marry me, Theta?”  
  
“No.” Her mind whirls with a brief moment of idealism that can only really come from her, pieces appearing quickly.

“So, I’ll call it off.” Koschei places his hands on the arms of the chair, ready to stand but her expression must have done something because his head cocks at her again, “What? Isn’t this done and dusted?”

Lord Oakdown had money, he had standing and as Ushas had put it… “What if we did marry?” She suggests it and it sounds insane on her lips, his hands return to his lap and there’s a slight tug on his lips, though his eyes widen and his expression is a bit slow which proves that maybe she’s surprised him for once.

She doesn’t trust the smirk that echoes across his face, however she can see that she’s definitely surprised him, “Why would you want to do that?”

“Freedom.” The smirk dims ever so slightly and she sits up, confidence filling her a bit, recalling Ushas’ words at her wedding, “You could have a hand in giving me freedom in this situation I’m in.” 

His head rights itself and he licks his lips, “What would be in it for me?”

“You’d have a wife from an upstanding family, at least for a few years, connections and slightly more of an income.” He watches her face, trying to see if she’s serious or not, “I’m perfectly serious, besides that you’d get to uphold a promise you made to your Father and throw it in your cousins’ faces that you’ve managed to get married and they still haven’t.”

“Are you suggesting we keep the engagement, but change the circumstances surrounding it, Miss Lungbarrow?” There’s a spark in his eyes now, brief and bright but it shines at her, like she’s surprised him, “Admittedly I like the idea of rubbing my cousins’ noses in it, what did you have in mind?”

She presses her lips together, she hasn’t gotten that far yet, “We get married, you buy shares in the company and hand control of them over to me, I play the part of a smitten and adoring wife.”

“Do you intend us to marry forever?” He mulls it over, “Or should we marry for a year and then annul the entire thing without telling anyone, then publically divorce?”

Theta looks him over, “Three years of marriage.”   
  
He taps out a rhythm on the armrest, “Why three?”

“We’ve both been selling the lie that we are completely devoted to one another, we should give it time to make it seem as if it fizzled out.” He stares at her now, pointedly and unabashedly, she feels her neck grow hot as he regards her. 

Lord Oakdown laughs, “It’s an excellent idea, though I cannot picture you as the adoring and smitten wife type, I do think we’ll need one more thing as well-” 

"There's simply no attraction between us, if you think you can get into that particular area of things." She replies to him, his eyebrow raises and she wonders how someone so pompous could have such pretty eyes, "If we do go through with this whole thing, I hope you are prepared for a sexless marriage, but affection is easy to fake is it not?”

He leans back in his own seat, eyes flicking about, "I didn't particularly think we'd do anything like that anyway, you aren't really my type." He seems to choose to ignore the last part of her sentence.

A tiny piece of indignation slides itself into her head, "Nor are you mine, but nevertheless everyone believes that you are."

"Curious, that you never corrected or attempted to get your father to call it off if I'm not your 'Type' before now?" His lips quirk, she stares at the motion before rolling her eyes. 

She shrugs, "Ushas said it herself, better to marry someone I know, then someone I have never encountered." 

"I see." He presses his lips together, before his tongue wets them again and for some reason she finds herself mirroring the motion, “The last thing the arrangement requires, is the end of the previous… Is Lord Lungbarrow upstairs?”

Theta watches him, “Yes.” She doesn’t let herself linger on the pure rage she'll receive in a mere matter of hours, if he walks up those stairs and cuts off the arrangement their Fathers made so many years ago now, nor does she linger on why she doesn’t attempt to stop him from standing.

Lord Oakdown smiles, “Shall I drop in on my lawyer to have some official papers drawn up?”  
  
“That would be preferable, avoids any feelings getting involved.” Her shoulders release tension she didn’t know she was holding in them, as he stands up straighter and resets his hat, “I suppose this set up is agreeable then?”   
  
He turns to face the door, “As agreeable as something you thought up on the spot can be, Miss Lungbarrow.” He walks out and she feels the hot flush return, before Ryan appears in the doorway. 

“Who was that?” He hefts the tea tray, “I bought you some shortbread too.” 

Theta looks at Ryan, feeling the heat on her ears, “That’s thoughtful and exactly what I need… That was Lord Oakdown.” 

“You’re finace?”

“Apparently not today he isn’t.” 

Ryan looks down the hallway, blinking before she hears a yell from above them, “...Would you like me to say that I didn’t see him and that you aren’t here?”

“Please.” Theta sinks down into her chair and tries not to think about the storm that is surely waiting for her upstairs. 

It would be worth it in the end… Wouldn’t it?


	4. Breaking or beginning, an engagement is an engagement.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Quest, A Signing and reasons why I want to kill Uncle Oakdown- Welcome to Chapter 4.

_ “Dreams and dedication are a powerful combination.”  _

_ \- William Longgood _

* * *

Someone with less determination would pack up after the second or even third time they were thrown out of a building, Yasmin Khan was not that someone and she never will be for as long as she walks this city.

After moments of debate with her own thoughts, she decides not to voice this aloud to the man escorting her out of the Police Station, placing her on the path below the stone steps before turning on his heels.

He snickers at her, as if her very existence is a joke to him and she glares hard back, “Just you wait! I will be a police officer!” He keeps walking, but some other people stare at her now too, before looking away as it had become a common occurance to those who regularly walk along this path. 

She dusts her hands off on her trousers, staring at the doors and looking up at the sky, it was too late to try again today and she should get home and change before her parents got back. 

Yasmin casts one last look over the street before turning on her heel and starting to march down the familiar walkway, it wasn’t as ridiculous a concept as everyone within that station seemed to think was it? A woman as a police officer, law enforcement…

It wasn’t a pipe dream either, it was just a dream that she  _ would  _ achieve come hell or high water, even if that water came barreling in more often than not. 

She darts very quickly around the corner all at once and finds herself colliding with someone, hearing things scatter all around them all at once, “Sorry…” She mutters, looking down at the floor and the small pieces of metal that look like cast offs. 

“It’s alright- Oh, Miss Khan.” She turns her gaze skyward and meets Ryan Sinclair’s eyes, dark in the center of his face, Yasmin stands up a little straighter and she matches his wide smile, “How are you?”

There must be something in her expression because he dims a little bit, “You didn’t see me being forcibly escorted out of the police station?” He lowers himself to the floor and starts picking up the dropped pieces.

“I didn’t…” He admits quietly, softly and Yasmin watches his hands pluck up the little pieces of metal parts, the springs littering the ground around his feet, “They’re all stupid you know? You can run circles around the rest of them.” 

She crouches down next to him and starts to pluck up her own selection of pieces, picking up a few of the big casings for watches, “Thanks for the confidence… They keep laughing at me, before they walk me out of the building.” 

"Idiots, I’m serious there, you know I would trust you more in that uniform than anyone else." There's a pure kind of honesty in his words and it's an element she supposes he's always had, Mr.Sinclair looks up at her and smiles, "One day, I'm gonna get to witness you drag someone who deserves it inside that station." 

When he smiles, Yasmin can't help but share it, "Hopefully sooner rather than later, still should probably find a job in the meantime though." 

"I could always point Miss Lungbarrow in your direction?" He offers, hefting the box of parts now full again into his arms and standing up, "She's always after bright minds." 

She turns to look at the doorway to the shop that sits in front of the main workspace for Lungbarrow, considering it, "Is she?"

"Yep, hired me after I helped her fix something out in the fields once." His expression changes, smile falling a bit as his eyebrows furrow, "She's a strange woman." 

"Sounds it." She thinks about it, just for a moment and remembers something, “Wasn’t she in the paper this morning? Something about an engagement being called off?”

Mr.Sinclair tilts his head, “That was quick, only ended a few days ago, we all work but the papers work faster.” 

“The journalists do anyway.” She picks up the last piece and places it into the box, before helping him heft it up again, “What’s it like working at Lungbarrow? I hear bits and pieces here and there.” 

He laughs, “Good things I hope?”

“Mostly about how Lord Lungbarrow doesn’t know how to care about his workers, or his apprentices.” Yasmin adjusts the cap on her head, before sliding her hands into her pockets, Mr.Sinclair smiles at her a little wider, “Judging by your expression, that one’s true?”

She watches him look towards the door of his workplace, “Miss Lungbarrow is better at that, she’s not quite… Good with feelings, but she actually talks to us and asks us how we’re doing so…” 

“She’s actually in charge?”

“She’s actually in charge.” They share another wide smile and he blinks, “I should probably get back to work, but the Miss herself will be in later, I can mention your name and how good you are at… Almost everything.” 

Her eyebrows raise, “Come off it, almost everything?”

“Almost everything.” He grins at her and starts to walk away, “I’ll see you soon Miss Khan, have a good day.”

It was definitely looking up a bit, “Have a good one yourself!” 

A job at Lungbarrow… That would be interesting and definitely not boring.

Yasmin spins on her heel, plus she’d have a good route to the station and it wasn’t that far of a walk from her house. 

Maybe she’d enjoy it...

* * *

His solicitor looks over the papers once more, then flickers his eyes up to look over him and then Miss Lungbarrow one after the other.

“This is a contract marriage, my lord?” He asks, eyes moving between the two of them at a breakneck pace, “Little unconventional isn’t it?”

Koschei resists the urge to roll his eyes, “So is arranged marriage these days, but that still gets used my good sir.” His smile is biting for a reason and Miss Lungbarrow’s gaze flickers to him for a long moment of time. 

In return he raises his eyebrows at her and she returns her gaze forwards, “May I look over the contract?” She asks his solicitor who blinks at her, before handing the papers over without any objection present, she pulls her kidskin gloves off and tucks them into her lap as she takes it from him, nodding her thanks. 

Miss Lungbarrow is something of a vision in military pinstripe blues, hair pulled back from her head in a complicated updo he is relatively sure is french in origin, her earrings drop from her ears in little blue jewels, she looks far finer then she would on any ordinary day and he deduces that she must have let her Mother order her outfit for the day. 

Her hat sits on the desk in front of her, matching to the rest of the pattern her dress is in, with a black ribbon around the rim, “Are the terms acceptable?” Koschei asks her, noting her shirt’s collar and the tie that tangles from it tied in a relatively messy knot, how her jacket hangs off of her slightly, he doesn’t linger on the glances of small cuts that have sealed themselves into scars on the back of her hands, “Is there anything you’d like to add?”

She doesn’t reply to his questioning, instead keeping her eyes on the words in front of her and forgoing anything else. 

His solicitor looks at him again, Koschei glances back with a subtle raise of his eyebrows before Miss Lungbarrow turns to his solicitor again, “Do you have a pen?” She takes the one he offers to her, and lays the contract almost on top of her hat, “It’s all relatively agreeable, I like that you added in that I have free reign of all of your estates, your stables and that little cottage up in Scotland you have.” 

“Thought you might like the methods of escaping and disappearing into the night, lest you decide to kill me in my sleep.” He keeps his tone dry and it elicts an eyeroll out of his intended, before a smirk tugs at her lips and she turns away from him. 

Miss Lungbarrow scribbles her signature across the bottom of the paper in her designated spot, “If I killed you in your sleep I would have one-hundred and fifty-seven pounds of dead you with no way to move it.”

His own lips quirked, whilst his solicitor looks on at them both in a little bit of alarm, “Hand it over, the contract and the pen, let’s get this over with… Ring size?”

“Slim Medium, nothing gaudy or flashy, I don’t like heavy stones.” 

“In colour or size?”   
  
“Both.” 

Koschei nods to himself as he signs his name and signature, “Send Ms Noble this evening, I should have something ready by then.”

“I can’t just hand over my ladies’ maid, I’ll need help dressing for dinner.” Miss Lungbarrow lifts her hat up off the desk and moves to place it back on her head, “I’ll send her during dinner, is there anything else?”

He watches her pull her gloves back on, one after the other and then she stands and he follows her upwards, “Nothing I can think of at this current juncture, I’ll write if I encounter anything.” 

She holds out her hand, “Pleasure doing business with you.”    
  
“And with you.” He takes it and they shake hands, sealing an unprecedented deal between the two of them that would not easily be broken. 

Miss Lungbarrow smiles at him, a thin wisp of a thing that is just a brief reminder of their shared childhoods, wide grins shared in the poppy fields on his estate and wind rushing by them as they ran, “When do you plan on proposing?”   
  
“I’ll give it two weeks, make appearances at parties you will most likely be dragged to in order for you Mother to find you a match-”   
  
“Looking suitably jealous like you’ve made a big mistake?” She finishes for him, the smile growing just a touch, she turns towards the door, “Not bad for a plan you’ve anguished over.” 

He finds himself smiling back at her, “At least I plan things out, don’t you follow every impulse usually?”

“It makes life more exciting.” Miss Lungbarrow replies, her shoes sounding on the floor, she matches him in height thanks to the slight heel of her boot, “Farewell, Lord Oakdown, I have other things to attend to.” 

He watches her leave out the door, before turning back to his solicitor, “Everything finalised and legal?”   
  
“Yes sir, though, may I inquire about something?” 

Koschei debates it, then waves his hand, “Go ahead.” 

“Why a contract marriage when the two of you seem such a perfect match already?” He blinks, then blinks again, then his solicitor sits up straighter, “I don’t mean to pry, my Lord.” 

He coughs, turns towards the door and stops, "I can assure you, this marriage is only out of mutual benefits and if I had more of a choice I most certainly would not be marrying anyone, let alone her."

There’s a sort of baffling noise that leaves his solicitor as he walks out the door.

* * *

It is never surprising that he finds his home office invaded. 

His Uncle languishes in the chair by the fire, the morning’s paper in hand, “ _ Witnesses on the scene reported loud yelling over the end of the Oakdown and Lungbarrow engagement.”  _ He reads, Koschei walks straight past him and sinks into his office chair with his back straight, looking at the older man with his eyebrows raising, “ _ Mostly one sided on the part of Lord Lungbarrow, Lord Oakdown was reported leaving shortly after grinning like a madman.”  _

There is of course a biting quality to the man’s words that sits on Koschei’s shoulders like a dead weighted freshly hunted kill.

His Uncle looks at him with so much disdain that Koschei is briefly reminded of his Father’s own cold and aloof expressions, “What happened to upholding the agreement?”

“It’s a false rumour Uncle, you really shouldn’t believe everything you read in the paper-” The Paper hit him squarely in the face with a reverberating smack in the center of his face, the bridge of his nose where it lands stings briefly, “-the engagement has just been changed is all.” 

He doesn’t move or rub at the spot as his Uncle raises his eyebrows and stands from the chair and Koschei makes the mental note to replace it, “Honestly, I don’t know why you are even here Koschei, your Father should have just left you in the colonies, you and that Mother of yours.” 

This is hardly the first time that he’s been at the receiving ends of the comments, “My Mother was his wife, you could hardly expect him to leave her there.”

“Then he should have just left you, his bastard behind.” His Uncle shakes his head, pacing back and forth in front of the desk, shaking his head, “Useless child, useless son, how he named you his Heir I have no idea.” 

He was here because his Father hadn’t seen him as useless, even if he had seen Koschei as a nuisance at times, he made him use his brain, “Uncle, please kindly leave my house.” 

“It shouldn’t be yours.” It’s a sneer, spoken clearly towards him with the disdain that came with the racist tone of voice, “I was warming up to you, my dear boy, but if you have made a mess of the one thing that was positive in your image, I will make sure you are stripped of everything you own.” 

Empty threats, his Uncle didn’t know how to make anything but  _ empty  _ threats, “I haven’t, please leave.” His voice is getting curt and Koschei makes a note to hire some security to hang around the house for just this occasion, especially if Miss Lungbarrow was going to end up living here in the near future, not that she’d need it if recent events were to be considered.

His Uncle raises his eyebrows, “I suppose, if you lose the Lungbarrow girl, there are always others in the society- Saxon’s daughter is said to be on the market for a husband.” 

“Lucy Saxon is barely twenty years old.” 

“Exactly, she should have been married already.” His Uncle hums, then nods, “I’ll inquire.” 

Koschei closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, “My engagement to Miss Lungbarrow is set in stone Uncle, I can assure you of that, there is no need to look for other avenues of marriage.” 

Eyes scan him over, once, twice, pale and thin like that of a particularly dim partridge ready to be shot out of the air, “I hope for your sake, you aren’t lying.” 

“I’m not.” 

His Uncle does not bother saying goodbye, he just walks out the door and Koschei waits until he hears the footsteps on the stairs before sagging down into his chair, his Uncle was so far behind the rest of the country. 

Koschei knew there were other ambitions out there for ladies of quality for one, he’d heard many were taking off to Universities after all and some went travelling, no one had to marry at the age of eighteen anymore. 

He stands up again, slamming his study door shut before throwing his jacket away onto the side, he stares at the armchair, beautiful in it’s wingback elegance but not anymore. 

He opens his door again, sticks his head out and yells for his footman.

* * *

Dinner with her parents is a nightmare. 

Her sisters are back off at finishing school for the spring term, leaving just the three of them to eat at dinner, Theta has all but given up on looking or wearing anything that she genuinely wants to wear in favour of telling Donna to dress her in whatever seems appropriate to please them. 

Tonight it had been purple brocade silk layered down in a skirt, one of the finer dresses she owns and she wishes she didn’t, the tightness of the bodice fitting and threatening to choke her with every rise and fall of her chest. 

It’s not that Theta doesn’t like the finer things in life, there is just a thin layer of contempt and disgust when she remembers what some people have to go through for the collection of said finery. 

When she plonks herself down at her dresser, belly full of lamb and the memory of echoing silence of a dining room in mind, she doesn’t stop herself from opening the draw on her right and reaching all the way to the back. 

Her fingers skim the edges of a watch, buried in her draw so deep because frustration had made her do so. 

When she pulls it out, past the little bits and bobs that her Mother would no doubt make her throw away soon, is the brass pocket watch that lies the same size as her palm, she runs a finger over the circles carved into the hood. 

Carefully, Theta turns it over in her hand and runs her fingers over the initials on the back, she doesn’t try to open the watch as it doesn’t work, hasn’t worked since she chucked it across her room in frustration when she was seventeen years old.

It’s weight is a comfort as she looks up into the mirror on her vanity and meets her reflections eyes, earrings made of diamonds sit in her ears, a length of sapphires line her throat, she looks like a prize to be given or won, the pretty little thing that should never have opened her mouth in the first place. 

Why had she let Koschei break the original arrangement with her Father? Why hadn’t she stopped him and just let both stand… 

_ Because you wanted control.  _

It is the smallest of whispers, an even tinier admission and she was in desperate need of such a thing here, with who she was, with how she was gendered, with her position in her family. 

The stranger part was that Koschei hadn’t argued with her terms, then proceeded to give her more than she’d asked for in the suggestion that lay in the uses of his properties in the country. 

But he still supplied money to the army. 

Her eyes scan the watch instead of her reflection and she opens the draw again, pulling out a battered envelope, one of many scattered in different hiding places in her room, each one less sweet then the ones that came before it. 

This one is written in the neat and tidy script that stems from the hand of a man a few miles away. 

_ Dear Theta _

_ You are a coward, cowardly to the point that it is sickening to watch from across the room, when we both know you are much braver than you let on.  _

_ I wish you would stop smiling like it doesn’t bother you, it bothers you and yet you say nothing. Do. Nothing.  _

_ We both know I could never love someone that cowardly.  _

She is tempted to throw this into the fire, but the edges of the paper are already a little singed from when she first received it before she’d plucked it out again. 

“Coward any day, Koschei.” She mutters to herself in the present, ignoring that the letter, like the man always carries the faint floral scent of poppies. 

Her tongue turns heavy with his name, she abandons the letter and lifts the watch again… 

Maybe, it wasn’t too late to fix it.


	5. Must one be civil? Does it not do to simply not punch them in the face?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ushas says hello, letters are analysed and a Bastard kicks down my door with elegance whilst twirling his facial hair at me.

_“She was a wild one; always stomping on eggshells that everyone else tip-toed on.”_

_\- Kaitlin Foster_

* * *

There comes a time in every person’s life where they find themselves in an impossible situation that is utterly beyond their control and due to the lack of control the person will move and bend themselves in ways that others never once considered. 

Once you have experienced this time in your life, you come out of it with a better grip on reality and a lack of patience for what is often affectionately called complete and utter _bullshit._

Ushas experienced that particular part of her life when she was seventeen, all the way until she was twenty, before her Father had given up on selling her off to the highest bidder on the marriage market and instead backed off.

It was a wonder what two dead husbands within the same decade could do for you. 

Then a dead Father with no male heirs, but an unmarried daughter with access to the best lawyers available. 

Three weeks in Paris, that had been where she was, now they were deep set into the March sunlight with April’s bright fields approaching as fast as they could manage it. 

Her suitcases contained multiple things, from the newest of fashions found in Paris boutiques and fashion houses to older clothing brought from home, there is many a hat box amongst them, being unloaded from the boat nearby onto the back of a carriage and the only thing Ushas holds in her hands is her leather travelling case. 

She wears an unassuming colour, far from the red she dons in her homes, but not too far from the bright pinks of spring that don’t wash her out as much as green or yellow. 

The port is bustling around them and Ushas remembers quietly that she is not alone as Lord Johnson chatters next to her about this and that; she is only half listening as she watches out for another face who had told her he would be returning on the same boat. 

But, his face is absent from the crowd and she can only guess what trouble he will be travelling to find. 

“Are you paying attention, Ushas?” She turns to look at Lord Johnson who stares at her, his eyebrows furrow, she smiles and nods at him, all practice and dazed happy bride, “Repeat what I just said?”

She lets the smile turn a bit dopey, “You were talking about how you wish they had the ports better organised so we didn’t have to wait here with the riff raff.” 

He blinks, she knows she had surprised him by the movement as he turns his gaze away from her, “I am sorry I doubted your attention, my love.” 

Ignoring the sharp twinge of annoyance at yet another person underestimating her ability to do more than one task at time, she gives him another pleasant smile, it seems to satiate him and she wonders if her next dose should be a bit stronger. 

Talk of the town tends to be reliable when the money is high enough and Lord Johnson was notorious for being a fan of the more… _Refined_ methods of intoxication, she’d learnt this a year ago when she’d chosen him as her target. 

She also knew from the gossip of Harlots that he could get impeccably rough with women, much like her other four husbands before their timely demise. 

Many question why she bothers with the entire thing, though Theta mostly asked how she got away with it. 

If Ushas ever found herself with a long moment, she’d organise herself to kill Lord Lungbarrow for her old friend, Theta would be angry for a few decades but she’d ultimately get so much more done.

“As much as I would adore hearing you go on about your investments, dear, the carriage is ready.” She pulls Lord Johnson out of his chattering and he blinks, clearly experiencing some mild annoyance at her interruption, she takes a step forwards before his hand lands on her arm. 

He pulls her roughly backwards behind him, hand on her shoulder and his fingers do dig through the fabric as she is set back in her place from his point of view, “Never walk in front of me my dear, you know that.”   
  
“Of course.” She keeps her smile pleasant and thinks about the opium in her travelling case. 

* * *

  
  


They return to his townhouse and not one of hers, primarily because he wants to lord his wealth over her- Even when one of her fingers was worth fifty times more than his whole body of work -the maid looks skittish already when they walk through the door, bags being taken up the stairs towards their rooms. 

She keeps hold of her case however, declining to put it to one side even as he is handed the paper, “Aren’t these companions of yours?” He waves the paper and the front page and she peers at it. 

Theta and Koschei stare back at her, two seperate photos side by side and she reads the headline. 

_ENGAGEMENT OF SOCIAL LITES STATUS STILL UNCLEAR_

Ushas swallows the curse, but before she can read on the paper is gone from her view, twisting away in the hand of Johnson, “You really should stop associating yourself with them, they do nothing for your reputation.” 

“Theta Lungbarrow is the eldest daughter of the best watchmakers in the country, who, have connections to the royal family, the eldest son was the playmate to Prince George and still keeps his ear.” She replies, stepping around, trying to see the rest of the article, “Koschei Oakdown is a Lord with a seat in her Majesty’s government and has the backing to be Prime Minister by the turn of the century.”

Lord Johnson blinks at her, “But they’re both insane, my dear, absolutely insane.” He throws the paper down on the hallway table and she watches it go, “Wildcards and now they’ve thrown the only thing that made them reputable in society to the winds.” 

She stares at him, blinks and turns away again, picking up the paper, “I’ve known them since I still had a governess, we shared the same one, there were others that joined us there on occasion but we three were the closest in reach.” 

“So? They were your schoolmates, all the better to remove them from your circle, on that note it’s also worth removing-” And he starts listing off names, names she knows by heart and she almost laughs. 

He’s still talking and listing names when she lifts the paper off the table, places some money in the maid’s hand, whispering to hide the new french couture for her until she returns and slips out of the front door again. 

She has a train to catch and no husband was going to stop her. 

* * *

The pub bustles with the kind of atmosphere that is incredibly easy to hide in if you are the kind of person who likes to blend in with the riff raff, who likes when it all gets loud as to slip through the crowd and steal whatever you so please from the pockets of those that fate has chosen to smile down on. 

Ushas picks out three pickpockets the moment she walks in the bustling area, adjusting her hat and turning towards the bar within the same step, smiling at the bartender before slipping behind the bar and hurrying up the stairs beyond it.

The Witchfinders’ Inn was one of the smaller and lesser known properties in her income, but it produced nice figures and gave Theta somewhere to fight where she would be safe to do so to her heart’s content. 

Plus, the betting figures Theta drums up on a normal evening of fighting could salary most of Ushas’ staff and keep them out of her hair. 

Her office is locked when she reaches the landing and she pulls the key on a chain out from between her corset and her chest, unlocking the door and stepping through, setting her case down on the small modest desk.

She sets her hat down, a blush pink thing with a black ribbon around the rim and lace trim onto the desk next to it and sits down in her chair, cracking open her case and withdrawing the three letters she’d left in there for the last week. 

Hopefully the two of the three hold the secrets of why an engagement that was all but set in stone has changed, whilst the third will undoubtedly be composed of asking her for a favour that she will have no choice but to agree to. 

Ushas weighs which letter would be worth opening to read first, who’s narrative of recent events would yield her the answers that are closest to what actually happened between the two of them. 

Though, neither Theta or Koschei were very reliable narrators. 

Especially if the situation or story concerned the other. 

Sacrificing what she has left of her sanity, she picks up her small letter opener, no longer than her index finger and made of slight and thin silver, then plucks up Koschei letter, having no doubts that it will be filled with dampened and oblivious feeling. 

The paper is slightly more expensive than what is strictly necessary to send letters and it is a defect of Koschei’s personality as she slides it out of the envelope and unfolds it to read the words beyond. 

She skims it, before setting it aside and opening Theta’s, doing the same here and then she sets them side by side for comparisons. 

_Theta came up with a plan on the spot, it's a completely ridiculous idea. So, naturally I agreed to it, even if she is a bit insufferable in her pride._

Her eyebrows raise up onto her forehead.

_He’s insufferably prideful, Ushas, has he always been like that? Koschei sauntered and hovered in my doorway, it was immensely satisfying to surprise him for once._

She leans back in her chair, staring at the two pieces of offending paper, they were idiots, complete and utter idiots.

Lifting both letters she narrows her eyes at them, looking at the differing handwriting, Theta’s neat script that resembles Doctor’s notes, with the occasional stray looping letter of insanity and then at Koschei’s tight but chaotic script that often runs in a single line without stopping. 

It is most obvious in the way that they curl each other’s names with such care that they must crave some kind of affection from the other, unwilling to admit it of course.

She knows already that neither of them will let themselves have it, no matter how the craving may change. 

There’s a small plonk against her window and she drags her gaze away from the spiralling letters to watch as the rain starts falling outside, it’s a bit more relaxing in all honesty then the spring sunshine. 

It’s a genuinely nice sound, she prefers it over the quiet or the incessant chattering of a soon-to-die husband. 

She casts her eye back down to the letters, folding them up and pressing them together before she opens her drawer and throws them in there a bit carelessly. 

Ushas ponders it for a moment, before pulling a notecard out of there and turning it over, checking that no writing already lingered on its surface, so she grabs a pen. 

She calls for a messenger as she curls the last letter, then her signature. 

_Come and see her hit someone who isn’t you._

  * _U._



* * *

  
  


The rain doesn’t let up for the rest of the afternoon, nor does it go away when the sun lowers itself down into the misty sky. 

It means that the pub ends up half full of men looking for a way out of the rain and finding the cellar already filling up with a sizable crowd around a ring, money being yelled about in one corner as people fought to either bet on _John Smith_ or his opponent. 

She watches the sodden masses pile in, waiting for two familiar figures to come tumbling from the cold and the wet, instead however, she is accosted at the bar by a third familiar figure who stands tall with a ridiculous mustache that looks somewhere between french and english that her eyebrows raise. 

Irving Braxiatel Lungbarrow smiles at her in greeting, not a single droplet of rain on his person anywhere before he turns to the bartender, though before he can open his lips to order she’s answering for him, “Whiskey, darling, he’ll drink whiskey, irish if we have it.” 

“It’s rude to assume Lady Johnson.” She looks at him with as much disdain as she can manage, waiting for him to correct the order to her bartender, before he waves the young lad off to make the drink, “It is Lady Johnson isn’t it? Still married.”

Ushas turns her gaze to the room, then to the men crowding the staircase to the cellar, “Not for too long, has the Government decided to make an example out of me yet?” She asks, keeping a keen eye on the door, “They do so love to humiliate my sex after all.” 

“As long as you keep marrying and killing slave traders, rapists and those who take the Queen’s name in vain, I think you will be fine.” His drink arrives, in a nice glass she usually reserves for herself, clever lad that bartender, she should probably learn his name and fill his paycheck up a bit, “How is Lord Johnson?”  
  
She waves him away, “Probably dying of an opium overdose, or at least hopefully, it will be mildly tragic if I don’t get to see him go down, but as long as he’s dead and there’s a corpse…” Ushas shrugs. 

Irving takes a sip of his whiskey, cocks his head and then smoothes down his mustache, “Well, it would do some good for you to be notably absent when he dies.” 

“Ah, but then I’d miss the fun part.” Ushas stands straighter, holding her head up a bit higher as the door opens again and a familiar blonde head of hair dashes in and down the stairs at a breakneck speed, “Your sister’s just arrived.” 

The crystal glass tips back, “Then I’d better get to the point, before she sees me.”

“What do you want?” She watches the stairs, then flicks to the doorway, waiting, watching, “I am a very busy woman, you know this.”

He seems to consider his options, “In May, after you’ve killed you’re husband, there is a woman I would highly suggest bringing over the ocean to England, you met her in Paris-” 

“Romanadvoratrelundar Dvora Heartshaven.” Ushas finishes for him, leaning back against her bar, “I remember her, small, clever, very blonde… Sharpened tongue and oh yes.” 

She levels her gaze at him, meeting his eyes and smiling widely.

“The French President’s daughter.” The doors open again in the other end of the room and she removes her gaze from Irving to see Koschei stood there, umbrella in one hand as he batters rain from his coat, his eyes are fixed primarily on the floor and Ushas sighs, “You owe me quite a few favours already, so I’m guessing this isn’t a favour?”

Irving moves, placing his hat on his head out of the corner of her eye, glass now empty of contents, “Of course it’s a favour.” 

“Blackmail then, okay, I’ll write to her tomorrow.”

“It was wonderful to see you Ushas.” He inclines his head and she raises her eyebrows, before pushing back off the bar and approaching Koschei, when she turns back around Irving is gone but she knows he’ll be back. 

Koschei raises his gaze as she stops in front of him, nose pinched down in a frown of annoyance, “Did you have to call me out here in the middle of a storm?”

“You didn’t have to come.” She replies, taking his umbrella from him as the doors open and more men push in, “It’s funny how I mention Theta in anything and you come running.” 

He stands up straighter immediately, the desired effect taking hold, “I do not come running, I came to see a boxing match and to ask if your husband was dead yet.” 

“Not yet and it’s a boxing match that Theta’s fighting in.” His eyes dart around the room, she presses her lips together to hold in the chuckle, “She’s downstairs, probably shedding her coat in preparation for getting in the ring.” 

He flaps his coat once more and she steps out of the way of the spare droplets of water, “Guess I better hide in the crowd this time, don’t need to surprise her again.”  
  
“Oh yes, lovely to see your eye’s cleared up nicely by the way.” Distinctly less purple, he offers her his arm and she curls her own through it, “You’ve never seen her box properly before have you?” 

Koschei starts walking towards the stairs, abandoning his umbrella in the stand amongst others, “No, I haven’t, but she has a hell of a right hook.”

Ushas smiles at him, thin and soft, she lets it last for a few seconds before they start to descend the steps into the inferno below. 

Satan was going to have to go back to bed. 


	6. Throwing punches gets you hurt and a drink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Captain Jack and boxing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not going to lie, this is probably my weakest chapter so far, it gave me some trouble for reasons I'm not going into right now but I hope you all enjoy nonetheless.

_ “Everyone has a plan, ‘till they get punched in the mouth.” _

_ \- Mike Tyson _

* * *

How Ryan Sinclair found himself in the position of Miss Yasmin Khan’s escort for the evening was told in a simple enough way, she’d marched herself into the Lungbarrow workshop that very morning and walked around the work tables until she came to stand next to his own. 

She’d smiled and asked for his help, holding the same kind of trouble in her eyes that had caused Mr Davidson’s cat to miraculously find itself out of a window when they were ten years old. 

Meaning there was no possible way for him to refuse to help her, which she knew. 

Oh she knew. 

Which brought him here, to the basement of the Witchfinders’ Inn, surrounded by a drunk crowd of people.

“This is a bad idea.” The sentence leaves his lips with barely a breath to it, floating on the air in the tension filled room into Miss Khan’s ear in a soft twisting whisper that doesn’t make her start in surprise, but is heard in the room of people yelling nevertheless.

She turns to him too fast for him to pull away from her, hair tucked up underneath the flat cap she has pulled low over her face, shielding it from prying eyes but she meets his gaze anyway, “You had all day to try to convince me out of it, but you had work.” She returns to him, leaning back into his space with so much ease he debates asking if she’s fully leaning into her role as leader of this bad idea. 

“And you were stuck inside with your Mother and Sister, how was that by the way?” Ryan doesn’t pull back, he’s taller than her for a start and that would make it hard for him to hear her and for her to speak to him. 

Miss Khan’s eyes don’t leave the fight before them, though he watches her flinch as the sound of a fist connecting hard with a face echoes out, even over the shouting, she leans back against the wall, “Sonya’s being adamant that I’m ruining all marriage prospects for her with my scandalous pursuits, when I’ve never caused a scandal in my life.” 

“We’re watching a boxing match that you shouldn’t have even heard about- How did you hear about it?” Ryan leans over her, just a touch, watching the two men in the middle of the chaos both grapple for a good end to the fight.

Her snort is just a touch more audible than she probably wants it to be, “Fair point and I heard Kira talking about it in the kitchen this morning.” He cuts his gaze back towards her and her smile is brighter, “She’s here somewhere I think, she was talking about  _ John Smith’s  _ fight like it was the highlight of the social season.” 

“It probably is, given the crowd.” He replies, returning to his full height to see over the crowd of people, neither of the men currently fighting were John Smith of course, “This is still a bad idea, neither of us should be here.” 

Miss Khan turns towards him again, a spark in her eyes that reminds Ryan of Miss Lungbarrow when she comes up with an idea that is ultimately going to end up working, “You really do like holding up your position as my voice of reason don’t you?”

“I am the voice of reason.” 

“You are  _ my  _ voice of reason.” She repeats, rolling her eyes as the crowd grows into a louder cheer as one of the men goes down, “Not ‘The’ voice of reason, proven by the fact that you can have just as many weird ideas as I can… When Tibo’s not there to stop you.” 

Ryan presses his lips together, no come back for that one. 

Miss Khan grins in victory. 

* * *

  
  


The backroom is stacked high with kegs, crates are packed and shelved all around her as she waits for someone to come and fetch her out for the fight. 

She is not alone in the room, Captain Jack Harkness sits across from her in his own chair, it’s been three years since Theta last laid eyes on the man but he seems almost unchanged in appearance. 

He chucks her the bandages for her hands, “So, how are you?” He offers forwards in the way of communication that only he can, casually and without much debate over it all. 

Theta starts to wrap them around her hands, “As well as can be expected, Jack.” 

“Ah, yeah, I heard about your engagement, sorry about that.” Jack picks up his pint from a shelf, “But, you may be better off, the last time I met Lord Oakdown he seemed…” 

She doesn’t miss a beat, “Like a prideful jackass you would hardly want to be around your worst enemy?”   
  
“Yes, exactly that.”    
  
“We’re still engaged.”   
  
“Oh.” Jack sips his pint, then leans forwards on his chair holding it out to her, she takes it, sips it and then hands it back, “Why do the papers think you aren’t?”

The sigh escapes by itself, as she continues wrapping the bandages around her fingers, over past scars from past fights, “Because I wanted control over it and he took it as momentum to be as dramatic as fucking possible.” Theta groans, tying off her right hand, looking towards the door as the crowd yells louder, “It’s so ridiculous.” 

“Why didn’t you end it out right?” He asks her, a very good question. 

Theta opens her mouth to answer when the door opens and heels click before it shuts again, Ushas now standing there, “I’m not interrupting am I?”   
  
“No.” Jack says at the same time as Theta says “Yes.” 

Ushas waves them both off, “Are you two ready to fight? We have quite the turn out this evening.” There’s something in the way she says it, that makes Theta believe she’s not just talking about the volume of people.

“I’m ready.” Theta states to her, narrowing her eyes and standing up, finishing off tying her left hand off only for Ushas to take it and redo the tie altogether, “I did that right the first time.”    
  
A shrug echoes across Ushas’ shoulders, “Jack?” She offers.

“Born Ready, Lady Goria.” He takes her hands and presses a kiss to the back of them, before she pulls them away with a short, curt smile, “Are we fighting seriously?”

Theta lets the brief offense she feels in, “Aren’t we always?”

“You’d better be.” Ushas states, raising her hands, “We have many people betting and I would hate to disappoint them.” 

She grins wide and brightly at Theta, before twirling on her heels. 

“Let the games begin.” 

* * *

  
  


She senses Mr.Sinclair tense next to her and it is what makes her look up, but bodies are pushing the wooden border between the crowd and the fighters and she can’t really see due to her height.

The tension and excitement that ripples through the room isn’t like any other, as she assumes the main event begins.

Yasmin doesn’t really take the time to think about it as she dives head first into the crowd of men and women who strain to get closer, to see, to watch, but even as they all do this it is strangely quiet. 

It’s easy to get to the front, to feel her being suddenly crushed as her eyes first fall on a tall man who stands with his fists in the air, a beaming and charming smile spreading across his attractive face as he soaks up the crowd around him in a circle. 

Then she sees the other person, the competitor whose gaze spans over the crowd slowly, their hat pulled low but pieces of blonde hair escape from under the edges, the eyes scanning the crowd almost don’t seem to have a colour and Yasmin feels herself go a little cold at the sight. 

She doesn’t know who is who, but the smaller, thinner man is who she knows she will route for. 

A third man steps out, he is unremarkable in appearance as he starts speaking, “Good evening ya buggers!” He calls and the crowd responds immediately, chaos in vocal form, “Welcome to the Witchfinders’ Inn! We have a treat tonight!” 

Her attention remains primarily on the smaller of the two competitors, there’s something about him that remains familiar, it is drawn away when a hand lands next to her on the wood, a lot more space freeing up around her and Yasmin looks back to see Mr.Sinclair staring at the people who’d been crushing her. 

When his eyes move forwards, he stiffens, it’s hard to miss and she tilts her head at him before turning back around to look at where his eyes are. 

“Do you know who that is?” She tries to ask him, but he doesn’t answer though when she turns to look at him he is staring at her, he points a finger to his ear and she leans up on her tiptoes and repeats her question in a whisper. 

She watches Mr.Sinclair nod slowly, then definitely and she leans up again. 

“How?” 

He leans into her space now instead, positioned by her ear and whispers “ _ That’s my Boss.”  _

Yasmin turns, looks at the smaller competitor and realises with that nugget of information why they are familiar. 

“Theta Lungbarrow is a boxer?” She mutters, mostly to herself as the aforementioned takes up a fighting stance opposite her opponent. 

The blonde hair escapes from the cap a little bit more, her eyes grow more determined in direction and Yasmin feels a rush of confidence fill her. 

A whistle is blown and the first fist is thrown at Miss Lungbarrow quick and fast, she crouches low and then up when the fist has passed her. 

She feigns a blow at the man’s side and hits his neck in a quick tap of a blow that seems to have just the right amount of force behind it as he twists around to follow her a little unsteady on his feet. 

The next blow comes against his knee, he’s down on the floor but up again in seconds and turning to face her immediately with the biggest grin Yasmin has ever seen on his face, like he’d been waiting for it. 

“ _ I didn’t know she could hit like that.”  _ It’s a voice in her ear, stood close enough for her to hear and she nods softly, watching as-  _ “That’s Captain Jack Harkness, he’s retired military.”  _ Jack Harkness tries to sweep the woman’s legs out from under her. 

She jumps back out of range just in time, like a skipping rope with a wide grin spreading across her own, all teeth. 

Yasmin wonders how he knows who Captain Harkness is belatedly, but it flies from her mind as Miss Lungbarrow lurches forwards and hits the man’s chin with an uppercut that pushes him away from her.

When he comes back to face her again with a head shake a trickle of blood escapes down his nose and he wipes it away, before his grin brightens and he rushes forwards towards his opponent. 

Her head moves where his fist was aiming and she backpedals across the arena as the crowd grows a little louder. 

Miss Lungbarrow seems to thrive on the attention just as much as Captain Harkness. 

She sweeps his legs out from under him now, her grin all teeth as she spins on her heel and keeps him down. 

It seems so fast as the crowd bursts out into a massive cry of victory for her and she looks up, away from Captain Harkness, scanning it and then… 

She stops, staring somewhere off to the side of her and Mr.Sinclair and Yasmin twists to peek over his arm to see who she’s looking at. 

Lord Oakdown claps from where he’s stood nearby to them, eyes focusing solely on the victor of the match. 

Yasmin turns her attention back to Miss Lungbarrow who looks away, almost angry if she had to guess, she twists around to face her companion, “You think she’d be up for conversation?” 

Mr.Sinclair looks down at her, hands bracing on the wooden border as he studies her, seemingly thinking, “She’ll want to meet you.” He states proudly with a grin before pushing himself away and back into the crowd. 

She casts one last look into the arena as the woman’s hand is lifted up above in victory, before she follows him. 


	7. You smile so nicely I almost forgot how much of a prick you are.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After conversations of fights, job offers and rainy gifts.

_“Man is least himself when he talks in his own person, give him a mask and he will tell you the truth.”_

_\- Oscar Wilde_

* * *

“Why the fuck is Koschei here-”   
  
“Hello Theta dear, congratulations on winning the fight.” She doesn’t look up from her papers when Theta starts talking to her, she never does, Ushas was always too calm for that.

“Ushas, why is he here?”

“You know you called him Koschei that time, you haven’t done that in years-” 

“Ushas.” Theta places her hands on the woman’s desk, hard, despite the fact that her wraps are still on her knuckles and that her hands still ache from hitting Jack around, “Why was he here?”

Her friend’s eyes lifted from her paperwork finally, looking her in the eyes, “I invited him, thought he could use some entertainment, besides.” Ushas stands up, walking around her desk to look Theta in the eyes properly, “I need you both to stop acting like children and get this marriage done with.” 

“Why are you so invested in my marriage- What about your own??” She pushes as Ushas turns on her heel to walk out of her office, “Don’t you have a husband to kill?” 

Theta follows after her as Ushas takes the stairs downstairs again, “My husband’s murder is well in hand Theta.” The volume of the room comes back to them as they enter the bar again, “Ianto!” She calls to the bartender who turns now, a crowd of busy patrons bustling against it searching for more intoxication, “Got a job for you.” 

She knows Ushas is doing everything she can to ignore her, it’s what she does when she needs people to stop acting like children- She starts treating them like children.

“Yes?” Ianto asks, shoving what looks to be cheap beer at a group of men who thank him profusely for disappearing off back into the crowd of the pub.

The bar owner, pats him on the shoulder, “Take another pint to Captain Harkness won’t you? I think he likes the cut of your jib.” Ushas pushes him towards the second set of taps, before settling in where he stood, “You should go find Koschei, talk things out or get a drink?”   
  
  


Theta shakes her head and turns to face the room, scanning it before she spots Ryan Sinclair, someone at his side that she’s sure she’s seen before, “Or, I could talk to Ryan, who’s approaching me with someone I could probably do with meeting.

  
“You need to-” But Ushas’ words are lost to the crowd demanding her attention at the bar and so Theta turns to greet her new guest.

She plasters the biggest smile she can come up with on her face, “Hey ho, I’m guessing you recognise me?”  
  
“Well, it’s not exactly a masterful disguise.” Ryan puts forward as he comes to stand in front of her, hands sliding into his pockets, dressing down for the day it would seem, “Though, to be fair I’m pretty sure no one here cares.” 

His friend steps out so that Theta can see her properly, “Oh? Who’s this?”

“May I introduce Miss Yasmin Khan? She’s interested in working with us down at Lungbarrow.” Ryan introduces the young woman flawlessly and Theta holds out her hand, it is taken in a soft but ever so firm handshake. 

Yasmin Khan tilts her head at her, “You’re younger than people make you out to be, the photos in the paper age you quite a bit too.” 

“Do they? That’s a shame, only about twenty-seven years of age myself honestly, can’t say the same for the rest of the room.” She makes a show of scanning the crowd of people again, “If you ask me, some of these people could do a turn in front of a camera.” 

She’s rewarded with a soft laugh, that lights the young woman’s eyes and makes her smile, “You have a sense of humor then?”

“More of one then some people I could mention.” She glances back to where Ushas is standing, then around the room again to see if she can see a purple wool coat and a terrible beard, “It helps you survive, doesn’t it Ryan?”

Ryan laughs himself now, “My nan says if you can’t laugh your way out of trouble you shouldn’t have gotten into it in the first place.” He leans against the bar, looking at the crowd himself now, “I thought I saw Lord Oakdown earlier, he here to see you?”

“No idea, though I don’t think he’s here for Jack.” 

“Not a fan?” Yasmin puts forward, placing her own hands in her pockets, “He was really good in that match, kind of feel bad that he lost.” 

Theta raises her right knuckle, “You don’t feel half as bad as I do about it, I think I probably bruised his face and no, Lord Oakdown is not a fan.” 

“Pity.” Ryan mutters and Theta follows his line of sight to where Ianto is delivering a fresh pint to the Captain, “Not that he’ll notice of course, from the conversations I’ve had with him in the past he’s got plenty of admirers.” 

_Understatement,_ she thinks to keep to herself, “So, you want to join us at Lungbarrow then? What positions are you thinking about? Are you good at detail work? Lifting? Chasing thieves out?”

Theta watches Yasmin press her lips together, thinking about it and it’s the little cues, the way her eyes reflect that she is debating several choices that let’s Theta know that she’ll hire the young woman. 

“I’m good at problem solving and… Chasing thieves out.” She states after a long pause, taking her hands out of her pockets again, “And reading people, I think. “

Yasmin’s smile is nervous and a little shaky but there’s confidence there.

Ryan seems caught by it next to her, ready to open his mouth with a comment but Theta beats him to it, “Well, I am looking for a new assistant, been looking since Clara moved on to another position in London.”

“What would I be doing?”  
  


Theta leans back against the bar herself, “Well, mostly you’d be watching my back, organising my schedule, accompanying me to various events and conversations.” 

“That sounds…”   
  
“Boring? I know, for the most part it is but occasionally I get to come here-” She nods at the room, “-and punch someone.”

She can see the young woman thinking it over, Yasmin looks at her, tilts her head and then her eyes move to look at Ryan and then back at her.

“If you want the job, show up on Monday morning, your plainest dress at nine in the morning.” She smiles brightly one last time, before she slips away, making for Jack’s table knowing it’s rude to leave them both standing there like that but needing different company nonetheless. 

Jack looks up to see her and starts to smile before it sours unexpectedly as she sighs and turns to face the person she’d been hoping to avoid. 

“Miss Lungbarrow.” She’s almost tempted to tell him to call her by her first name, but that was a danger in itself, “Congratulations on your win.”

When Theta looks at Lord Oakdown, she almost believes he means it, “It wasn’t as good as my last one.” She looks pointedly towards his eye that is now all healed but the memory of the bruise makes her smile at him, “What brings you here this evening?”  
  
“I have the feeling you already know.” He slides his hands behind his back and raises himself up to his full height, she knows it’s just to mock her so she narrows her eyes at him, “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

His coat is monogrammed, of course it is, “I have a brother.” She states this and Lord Oakdown’s eyebrows raise upwards of their own accord. 

“Brax taught you to box?” There’s a quiet kind of surprise in his voice, “I thought he never helped anyone but himself, let alone teach them anything.” 

Whilst he is right, Theta doesn’t answer him and instead rolls her eyes, making to walk away again, “I wish I could say it was nice to see you, but that would be a lie.” 

His lips quirk, “Quite the same to you my dear.” 

_My dear,_ He had to be infuriating didn’t he?

They both hold eye contact for a moment, before she makes to turn and go, but Ushas blocks her path, “I thought you had patrons to attend to-” She begins but is waved off.

“You two will send me off at the station tomorrow morning.” It is not a question, nor a request it is an order and for a moment Theta feels like she’s five again, Ushas smiles at them both wide and bright, “Also if you two think I won’t be holding your idiocy against you, you are mistaken.” 

Lord Oakdown sighs next to her, “Tomorrow morning?”   
  
“Tomorrow morning, come rain or shine.” Then she was gone into the crowd, leaving them behind.

Theta looks at Lord Oakdown, who looks back at her, she can feel an actual smile edging onto her face, “We aren’t idiots.” She states to him and he nods.

“Indeed we aren’t.” A smile blooms on her face and he echoes it, before she looks away, “I think I will take my leave now, the room is becoming too crowded for my liking.” His eyes move to the door, she’s expecting him to insult her in parting but he doesn’t say anything else as he walks away. 

She turns to see if she can find anyone to talk to, but Jack is gone and Ryan is at the door, opening it for Yasmin, taking her home hopefully and she looks for Ushas but she is gone as well, Ianto now stood at the bar in her place. 

It was probably time for her to retire home as well, she had quite the walk back and whilst she didn’t really crave sleep as much as the others, she did have her moments of fatigue. 

Theta cracks open the door to the pub, stepping out to stand under the awning and decide what her best course of action was to get home, there was no way to escape running into the rain and getting soaked of course.

Someone is smoking, she turns to look at them and is less surprised than one would first assume when she sees Lord Oakdown standing there, staring at her, cigarette in hand and his gaze is curious, “I thought you’d gone.” 

“Waiting for my carriage.” His tone is matter of fact and she tilts her head as the barest amount of wind blows the smell of tobacco her way, he shifts against the wall and stands up straighter to come and stand next to her, uninvited it was always uninvited, “What about you? Will you be walking home in this mess?”

He inclines his head to the street as the rain batters down onto it in a wave, she thinks about her lack of weather protection, “I’ll be fine, always am, you know me.” 

The drag he takes on his cigarette is long and familiar, reminding her of days spent hiding from his Father in their teens in the upper levels of the Oakdown estate with their friends back then, “Take my umbrella.” His voice is quiet, it’s not a question, it’s a statement and it takes her a moment to realise he’s adopting something akin to Ushas’ tone of voice. 

“I can’t take it, what about you?” There’s the little part of her that reaches out to him, it’s always been there of course, all her life, “Besides, it’s only a couple of miles back to Lungbarrow and the rain’s not that bad.” 

Down the street, something rumbles to life, “Miss Lungbarrow-” And he’s dropping the cigarette to the floor, picking up her hand and pressing the handle of the umbrella into her palm, “-don’t be foolish.” 

Indignation sparks in her gut and she opens her mouth, “I’m not foolish!”   
  
“Then accept my umbrella.” He states it plainly, she knows within a moment this is revenge and manipulation working in tandem as the carriage moves closer, “I won’t offer you a ride since your parents would hear it coming, but take my umbrella.” 

Lord Oakdown looks at her, she searches his eyes for a long moment as the horses neigh and his carriage pulls to a stop in front of them, her hand closes around the handle, relenting and accepting her fate in more ways than one. 

“This doesn’t mean you can manipulate me again, Koschei.” She watches the sentence register and his eyes darken in a way she can’t name, her tongue weighs heavy with his name, “So, don’t try it.” 

She’s spooked him, she can see it now in the way his lips quiver slightly as his footman opens the door to the carriage and he stands there staring at her, “Of course not.” He says after a moment, pressing his lips together and turning his gaze away to the carriage, as he takes a footstep towards it, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Th- Miss Lungbarrow.” 

“Until tomorrow, Lord Oakdown.” 

The carriage moves the moment the door is shut and she opens the umbrella, there’s something carved into the wood of the handle and it takes her eyes a moment to register that much like his coat, his umbrella is monogrammed as well.

“You are such a…” But her mind, usually full of names to call him is absent for once, just like the man in question. 

Theta turns in the direction she needs to travel and starts walking, focusing on the skyline she can see opposed to the thoughts running through her brain. 

* * *

  
  


Her townhouse hasn’t really changed when she steps through the door, being greeted by a loud mew and Ushas bends down to scoop up the black cat as she flicks her new switch on the wall. 

She presses a kiss to the top of her cat’s head, she hasn’t seen her for weeks, “I’m home Lucifer.” She walks into the parlour, the lights switching themselves on slowly, still getting used to her brick work. 

“Mrrp.” She ruffles her head as she wanders, Christine, her tabby climbing up onto the sette and lounging, her third and final cat was the only one she couldn’t see, but Snowball was big and fluffy and would most likely be hiding under the sofa, Lucifer purrs as she pats her. 

The house is large enough but it is not cold, nor drafty or hardly lonely as she buries her face in Lucifer’s fur, she would have to return in the morning to London and finish off the job she’d started. 

“It’s been a long day you three, I’ll have to go to the estate in Nottingham soon to visit your siblings.” Her dogs, her horses, her snakes and other assorted pets, “And arrange for you three to travel there so we can hide away for a bit, though I do have to keep up my end of the bargain with Irving.” 

She sighs, running her fingers through more fur before setting Lucifer aside. 

She had work to do. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My chapter formatting is a bit weird at the moment, which is why I will be taking next week off from updating this fic whilst I update my outlines for chapters 8 - 10.
> 
> Also, my fic 'Through The Deep, Dark Valley' is no longer being updated as I no longer have the motivation to finish it. 
> 
> Remember to leave kudos, comment and wish me luck in this absolutely massive project of Murder happens like clockwork.


	8. Hello, Goodbye, Good Riddance, Whiskey?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are formed, Husbands are discussed and Whiskey is drunk. 
> 
> Oh and... You didn't think I was done with the yearning did you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a scene in this chapter that I sent through about five people to get opinions on, I'm still a little unsure in it, when you reach it I think you'll know it off the bat. 
> 
> Other than that, I'm pretty proud of this chapter, so enjoy it.

_ “....And then a murder mystery will occur.” _

_ \- Natsuki Takaya _

* * *

A knock sounds on his door and when Ryan cracks it open he does not expect Lady Goria to stand there, dressed in dark grey and wearing a black hat, a scarf securing it below her chin as she cocks her head at him in a lazy calculating way.

She claps her hands together with one wrist supporting a carrying case that looks too heavy to be supported by that singular wrist and smiles widely at him before her head straightens, “Mr.Sinclair, I require your assistance, may I come in?”

“Depends, is this one of those schemes where I’m being used?” He keeps his tone neutral, but has heard enough stories over the last few years to be caution, on top of that she keeps acquaintance with Miss Lungbarrow and whilst Miss Lungbarrow was a good person, he would be lying if he said she wasn’t shady. 

Lady Goria’s smile widens a bit, “I don’t use children like that, no this one is relatively simple.” 

“...Simple?”   
  
“You’ll be babysitting Theta- Well, you and Miss Khan.” Ushas pops her case open and draws out two envelopes, “My first stop this morning was Mrs Williams’ hotel room whilst she heads back home, she was down here to visit some family and I knew I could catch her just in time.” 

The envelopes are set in a soft cream colour, his name is written in an elegant script on one and Miss Khan’s labels the other in the same script, “Why me? And Miss Khan too for that matter?”   
  
“Well, you are both respectable members of society and Theta needs to be strong armed into a position that fits that persona more so than before, especially before the summer hits.” Her lips move and there is a logical tilt to her tone as she speaks, she closes her case again, “I do so hope you agree to help me with this, these invites to the Williams’ last day of spring luncheon in a few weeks time will help you do this, plus it is a gorgeous party and a wonderful opportunity for Miss Khan to meet an old friend of mine.” 

Ryan holds the invitations, “Okay… What friend of yours?”   
  
“Narvin, he works in the main branch of Scotland Yard, I believe Miss Khan is aiming to join the force, no?” Lady Goria presses her hands back together again, “Please be sure to hand that invitation off to Miss Khan tomorrow at work.” 

She turns to go, Ryan looks at her a little befuddled, “Um-” 

“See you at the Luncheon!!” And Lady Goria is gone down the hallway and out of the lodgings.

Ryan, is left more than a little confused but steps back and shuts his door, staring down at the invitations in his hand. 

* * *

The sun shines through the clouds high above his head, a cool spring breeze echoing through the crowd that bustles around him as he walks, spying the dark and monotone colours mixing with bright ones befitting spring all around him.

Young people all ready to run away for the weekend, freshly out of school and heading for picnics, parasols in hand and the giggling bothers him with each step he takes.

He spots Theta, because he always spots Theta and she stands out in her simple wool coat tailored to her waist and the edge of her boots he can see just under her skirt as her head moves, covered with a simple round boatman’s hat, tailored out in a richer blue then the other day. 

In her hands she holds a familiar purple umbrella, done up with the silver tip gleaming in the light, he debates turning around but she does first, “Lord Oakdown.” She greets. 

Admittedly he can feel a little disappointment in her usage of his title, when just last night she had spoken his name and he’d been able to see that he rather likes it when she does so.

“Miss Lungbarrow.” He returns, placing his hands behind his back, “Good morning, any sign of Lady Johnson yet?”

Theta shakes her head, curls escaping from her hairstyle, she lofts the umbrella towards him, “No, but here, thank you for lending it to me.” 

His lips move before he really considers it, “Keep it, I have many.” 

“Are they all engraved with your initials?”   
  
“Yes.” 

She purses her lips at him and raises her eyebrows, “Take it back.” 

“No.” He states it, goading her just that tiny bit, “As I said, I have many Miss Lungbarrow.” 

Theta licks her lips, raising the umbrella, “I said-” She goes to throw it but a hand grips her wrist, “-Ushas let me throw it.”    
  
“We’re in public.” Ushas states plainly, bored as she guides Theta’s hand back down to her side, “Please wait until you are alone in some hallway somewhere and not in the middle of a crowd, especially since the tip of that umbrella is  _ definitely  _ sharp enough to stab him.” 

Koschei softly lets out the breathe he’d been holding, “Thank you Ushas-”    
  
“Don’t thank me, you definitely deserve to get stabbed at some point.” She replies, rolling her eyes and reaching up to adjust her own day hat pressed in a crisp black with red ribbon, a dark grey dress surrounding her, she turns to Theta, “I assume you received your invitation to Amelia’s luncheon this morning?”

He watches Theta blink, “How did you-”    
  
“Paid her a visit on my way out of town, that’s why I’m late and have to take the next train in about half an hour.” She pulls a small watch out from the neck line of her dress, clicking it open, “Twenty minutes till my train arrives, shall we?”

Ushas tucks the watch away again, the chain glinting around her neck, indicating towards the bustling station. 

Theta looks her over once, “What are you planning, Ushas?”   
  
“A funeral.” She deadpans in return, rolling her eyes and starting to walk, “You two need to set a date, I’m partial to July myself.” 

Koschei turns to follow after her, careful to keep eying how Theta holds the umbrella, “What is it with summer weddings this year?”   
  
“My Mother wants one too, she’s practically distraught that it doesn’t seem like it will happen.” Theta’s tone edges on annoyed, the weeks of dramatic overtures surely getting to her, “Honestly, part of me just wants to grab Koschei and elope.” 

There’s a soft chuckle ahead of them, as if Ushas had completely been expecting Theta to say that. 

“I mean why summer anyway?” Koschei continues on, “It’s frightfully hot and we’ll have to wear layers, someone will  _ insist  _ we have an outdoor ceremony.” 

Surprisingly, his fiance nods in agreement, “You won’t be the one wearing most of the layers, do you  _ see  _ how wedding dresses are put together these days? The sleeves are endless and the train is impractical, not to mention you can’t even run in the layers of petticoats they force you to wear.” Theta’s voice cuts through the crowd, genuinely baffled it would seem.

Ushas laughs again now, “Yes, but the dresses are so much fun to waste your future husband’s money on and then burn the moment they die.” The last part is a whisper just meant for them and in unison, he and Theta both pause and watch after her.

“You burn your dresses?”    
  
“Well, what else am I supposed to do with them?” She asks, a genuine question in her voice, not a single hint of sarcasm to be found, “Anyway, the sooner you two come out with the fact that you actually are still engaged the sooner you can set a date, the sooner Theta gets to get out of her parents’ house.” 

Theta purses her lips, but doesn’t reply. 

“Besides, I’ll be widowed by July and I want to show up at your wedding in black in the middle of a hot summer day.” Ushas doesn’t face them, but he can feel the smirk on her lips as they reach her platform, she stops and looks down the railway line, “I want to see you both in an advantageous position, you both get things out of this union.” 

They can’t argue with her when she’s being logical and it’s honestly always been the most unfair thing about their friendship since they were children.

Koschei looks at Theta, who looks back at him for a moment, “We never went over the terms of our agreement with you, Ushas.” He points out and their friend turns to face them both finally.

“Why would we need to? It’s obvious.” She blinks as if they’ve both called her dim, “Theta gets access to the shares your family already has in Lungbarrow, as well as access to your fortune and lands.” 

Theta raises her eyebrows, “And what does Lord Oakdown get?” She asks.

“He gets your dowry, access to the most profitable watch making company in the country, a long standing connection to one of the most influential families in England, as well as a boost to his reputation and image in the public eye and we all know how much Koschei needs to have people think of him.” Ushas looks him over, presses her lips together with a note of disappointment as a whistle sounds off in the distance, “There’s only so much the Oakdown name and income can do for him.” 

A note of anger is present in Theta’s eyes, “So, I’m a figurehead?” She asks, her tone thin and a little biting. 

“No.” Ushas replies, looking Theta in the eye, “ _ You  _ are what makes him suitable for Downing street and Parliament- Forgive me Koschei -you are the White presence that makes the gentry at large overlook his Indian heritage.” 

The anger in Theta’s eyes is still present, but redirected now to people who are not here, “I’m a distraction.” She states it, breaking the eye contact to look at him quickly as if thinking he won’t notice.

“She’s not wrong.” He begins, though he can’t keep the bite from his words, “That is partly why I agreed to your plan.” 

Theta stares at him properly now, “I’m a distraction.” She repeats, licks her lips in contemplation and he pretends not to notice, “But can’t they just accept that Koschei’s-”    
  
“No.” He states it, plainly and flat, “If you haven’t noticed Theta, the country is a little preoccupied with one’s upbringing.” 

The anger remains so clear and it beats with his own, Theta’s not angry at him… She’s angry for him, now that was a funny feeling to be a witness too.

Koschei slides his hands into his pockets, raising his head up, “Not that that will stop me, you surely have an inkling at limitations set upon by society Theta.” 

Her lips fall flat, her face blank but her eyes swim at him, another whistle sounds in the distance, a train coming.

“This union benefits you both.” Ushas repeats, stoic and calm as she lifts her case in her hand, cracking it open to withdraw her train ticket, “Besides, I quite like the idea of Koschei in power, things might finally get changed.” 

It is as close to a vote of confidence he will ever get out of her, “Have fun in London.” He states it to her drily, but tilts his head, “We’ll see about sorting this mess out, won’t we Theta?”

Theta blinks, as if she had been lost in her thoughts, “Koschei owes me a ring.” His name slips from her lips, seemingly absentmindedly and he ignores the soft thrum of his pulse at the sound, “He told me to send Donna around a few weeks ago and he’d have something but all he sent back was a sketch.” 

“See about getting it made.” Their friend turns toward the incoming train, “I’ll be back in about a week, hopefully, seeing you two settled into an ease of time would be greatly appreciated.” 

He rolls his eyes, “You say that as if we exist solely for your entertainment.”

The train pulls up and Ushas turns to look back at him, “Don’t you?” There’s a teasing tilt to her tone and he moves to undo the door for her in front of them to the carriage, “Thank you.” 

“We don’t exist for anyone’s entertainment, Ushas.” Theta pats the woman’s shoulder, neither were hugging people, though they did share a smile, “Let alone yours, what are we? Characters in some long drawn out romance novel?”

Ushas laughs, “With you and Koschei dear, I’m relatively sure this is a Shakespheren comedy.” She climbs aboard the train, turning to look back at them through the door as she reaches to shut it, “Good bye.” 

“Bye.” Theta waves.    
  
Koschei nods his acknowledgement, “I await that invitation to that funeral, your planning.” 

He watches Ushas roll her eyes through the window, though she smiles at him too. 

They stand there until the train pulls out of the station, waving goodbye to their friend. 

“Take your umbrella.” Theta holds it out to him again, he stares at the handle she steadies in front of him, eyes seeking out his own, “Take it.” 

He scans her face, the hard set of her brow, the determination in the flat line of her lips, he can hear the train chugging along somewhere as it leaves and he looks at the purple umbrella once more over her.

And he steps past it, offering one last “Keep it.” As he leaves, ignoring the twist in his gut as he walks away from it… As he walks away from her again.

* * *

She knows something is wrong when the door to the townhouse swings open and she takes that first step in. 

The maid bows her head respectfully, then straightens, “I hid the french couture like you asked Ma’am, the Lord is still out, has been since yesterday evening.” Ushas raises her eyebrows as she sets her case down on the hall table, “Can I put some tea on for you, Ma’am?”

“Tea would be lovely, black please and something to eat, I’m famished.” She breathes and looks in the mirror as she pulls the pins out of her hair, the maid nods and rushes off in one direction, leaving Ushas alone in the entrance hall. 

Her hair curls at the ends when she has it all pulled out, head no longer aching from the weight of the pins of the updo as she shakes it all out and picks her case up again, ready to head upstairs and find somewhere to place it. 

She fully intends to find a book and read in the parlour until her  _ Husband  _ returns and she goes back to play acting as she slips one last dose into his wine and says goodbye that evening and hello to widowing once again. 

The bell rings for the door, she pauses, sets her case aside again and turns back around, her heels a scrape on the marble flooring as she does so. 

She can see the figures standing through the stained glass of the windows and noon day sunlight as she approaches the door, the bell is being pulled down again when she rests her hand on the knob and pulls it open. 

For a brief, silly moment, Ushas had thought things were finally going to plan. 

“Good afternoon, Madam.” The first police officer starts, the other stood rigid beside him, “Is Lady Johnson at home?”

Oh, that moment had to be so very fleeting didn’t it?

“I am she, may I inquire as to what this is about?” She keeps her tone neutral, her eyes wide and fluttering, already she can see the men shifting in discomfort. 

The second steps forward, “Madam, I’m afraid yer going to have to come with us to the morgue, we need you to help us identify a body.”    
  
“A body?” She laughs, but makes sure it sounds like it is disbelief, “Whose body do you think I need to identify?”

The first speaks up again, “Your… Your Husband’s, Madam.” 

Ah, now that was a problem.

* * *

The petals don’t make a sound as the rain starts falling on them… At least, up here, Theta can’t tell if they do or not. 

A field of red lies before her, some have curled up due to the lack of light that is echoing across the sky buried under grey clouds built of heavy thoughts and heavier bottled tears, poppies stretching themselves into the sky. 

The house looms ahead of her in the distance, intimidating in the fog and stretching further then her eyesight would allow. 

Wind echoes through the loft of the old wooden barn that sat on the border of the Lungbarrow and Oakdown estates, rattling a bit in time with the slosh of liquid in the whiskey bottle in her fingertips.

The barn has long been cleared free from furnishings, pillows, blankets, hay bales, so she has to bring her own pillow and blanket from the house to settle down here again. 

Whiskey is warm in her finger tips, the world is a bit numb and the alcohol assists in letting the cold in and she welcomes it with the openest of arms she possibly can.

Numb and cold, two things she is so intimately acquainted with that it’s a little hard to imagine how she could ever live without them, a back bone and a method of escaping the anger that would fill her at times. 

Anger, that for the first time in a long time she’d felt for someone other than herself. 

The umbrella, offendedly purple and still obnoxiously monogrammed sat against the beam across from her, drying off from it’s recent usage and Theta  _ hates  _ that she doesn’t really want to give it back even after she’d tried so hard earlier at the train station. 

It’s a symbol and she doesn’t know why, a symbol that maybe Koschei hadn’t changed  _ that  _ much after all, a symbol that maybe just maybe… 

She wonders sometimes if his hands are still soft to the touch, not a callus to be found, she can remember how they had cupped her cheeks once upon a time. 

She wonders if he would still let that laughing smile echo across his face when he whispers,  _ "Thet? _ " at her on a sunny afternoon. 

Theta tilts her bottle of whiskey back and takes a sip, looking out towards the house that she would be living in by the end of the year, the same house that had housed  _ hours  _ of playtime and had seen several years of games invented to keep young people entertained. 

She ponders the days spent lying in this same barn, in the same spot she sits in now and the many times he’d found her escaped from her parents, from her house to sleep here again. 

Her grip tightens on the bottle, the memory of being sixteen and kissing her best friend for the first time sitting peacefully in the forefront of her mind. 

It reminds her, as it always does that there was a time when she was in love with him, irrefutably, undeniably… In love. 

But it had been naive and unconditional, stupidly wistful and… 

Theta misses it, she misses that feeling. 

She tilts the bottle back and takes a massive glug, she shouldn’t have stayed behind that day she should have...  _ Coward,  _ she was such a coward but then again she’d been seventeen and terrified and he had been scared too, even if he didn’t admit it.

Today had been so strange to her, but in hindsight she had been operating on being aware that Koschei is brilliant and intelligent, she hated how bright his eyes could get when he teased her, always had, frustrating and… 

“Pretty.” She hisses to herself, over the sound of the heavy rainfall as she leans against the wall and downs almost all of the whiskey in one go,  _ Stupid and brilliant and bizarre and annoying and handsome and Everyone should see that regardless of his skin colour-  _ “I’m actually drunk.” 

She says this to no one but the air and the sky, crying and emptying out all of it’s emotions across poppies that had seen her run through them escaping from grasping hands made of teasing, who had seen Ushas standing with her hands on her hips and Magnus laughing like a maniac. 

The poppies had seen Mortimus fall in the lake, Jelpax running away from Vansell’s wrath and Drax’s many failed creations that burnt holes in the field and sent the Gardener ablaze with fury. 

Millenia and Rallon had met in that field. 

But the red field on the Oakdown estate had seen more of her and Koschei than any other being alive. 

That is why she still likes sleeping here when the house gets too much, when her parents are through with ignoring her and want to yell at her instead, when Irving is home and being praised when he’s undoubtedly been doing things that  _ should  _ put him in prison. 

She could see the memories instilled in the poppies that grow year after year, she could see Koschei stood there, earnest and waiting for an answer with a pocket watch in his hands asking her to consider it. 

Consider the dream of running away and being themselves and… 

Theta drinks the last of the whiskey, setting the now empty bottle aside and grabs her blankets next to her, curling up with the pillows she’d snuck from the house, hoping for better days to come. 

A word rings in her mind, in his voice, in his tone, hurt and never ending and… 

_ Coward.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and Comments fuel me, don't forget to pay a visit to my tumblr ladyadelinergrey!


	9. First days sure are interesting, especially when yer spying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yasmin's first day at the office is begun by a visit from an unexpected visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been two weeks and this chapter is a little awkward but the sooner I get into the double digits the better because- YEAH 
> 
> Anyway, new update schedule every two weeks now.

_ “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.”  _

_ \- Seneca _

* * *

She can hear the bustle outside this office, or below it really, on the second floor across the hall from the main office she assumes belongs to Lord Lungbarrow that looms empty beyond the door, Yasmin Khan sits with tea softly cooling in front of her.

It steams there, surrounded by the rest of the tea service and she hasn’t touched it, just sits watching the clocks that hang on the wall.

Artwork hangs to her left, a painting of a woman from behind, blonde hair and sunlight shining upon her figure and internally Yasmin believes it could probably count as a bit indecent to hang in one’s private office. 

The door opens and she hears the heavy footsteps crossing the floor, “Don’t bother standing, Miss Khan.” The man speaks as he smooths down his facial hair and sits down in the chair on the other side of the desk, dark dirty blonde hair that seems akin to Miss Lungbarrow’s is slicked back out of his face, it looks more along the brunette end now that she looks at him, “I’m sure you probably know who I am.”

“Irving Braxiatel Lungbarrow.” She speaks it and the clocks go  _ tick tick tick  _ in the background, he smiles briefly but it’s a calm and charming sort of smile that would probably heat more cheeks than she wants to know of, but it has a cold edge to it, “It’s nice to meet you sir.” 

His eyes crinkle, “No, it isn’t, you were expecting to see my sister this early in the morning.” His tone is matter of fact and unlike Miss Lungbarrow’s entire demeanor, “I am sorry to ambush you though, I find it’s far more effective to strike now then wait for my sister to truly indoctrinate you to her causes.” 

“May I…” She purses her lips together, licking them and sitting up straighter, “May I ask what this is about?”

Mr Lungbarrow smiles again, patient, “I need someone to watch my sister for me whilst I am away, Ms Oswald did this service for me before she left, just the odd letter here and there.” He leans forwards on the desk, elbows perching precariously as he slides his hands together and presses his two index fingers together, “It will come with a small pay rise and I have some people I believe would be of interest to you in my acquaintance.”

“You just want… Letters?”

“Yes.” He punctuates his point by tapping his fingers together, then withdrawing, “Two precisely, one at the start of the month, one at the end, you see my little sister does tend to get herself into trouble.” 

Yasmin could understand the sentiment, “You’re sister is an adult?” She states and blinks at him.

“Yes, but she doesn’t half act like a child.” He purses his lips and sits up again, looking her in the eyes, “Take her and Lord Oakdown for instance, everyone knows they’ll end up getting married, even the people who don’t know the whole truth.” 

She blinks, “I… see.” 

Mr Lungbarrow stands, brushing his hands together and turning towards the door, “I expect the first letter no later than April the eighteenth.” He starts walking, doesn’t even glance at her as he passes by and through the door, “Ryan will have the address, the lad knows how this arrangement goes.”

“He does?” She mutters quietly and as Mr Lungbarrow disappears through the door, Mr Sinclair appears and smiles at her. 

It is the warm sort of smile, the opposite of how the next Lord Lungbarrow had smiled earlier, when Mr Sinclair smiles it makes his face light up with genuine joy.

“Ready for the tour?” He asks, she ignores the slight butterflies that flutter as his smile holds and focuses on her.

Yasmin could hear expensive shoes hitting the stairs somewhere out in the hallway, “Ready.” She states and stands up, tea service forgotten as Mr Sinclair offers her his arm.

This would be interesting.

* * *

  
  


Donna pulls tightly on the laces of her corset and Theta gasps, before her lady’s maid loosens her grip and reaches forward to loosen the laces again, “Why do you keep sleeping out in the barn?”

“Because it’s quiet out-” Another rough pull that forces the air out of her lungs, “- _ Donna.”  _

The redhead loosens the laces again, then pulls them tight properly, in the way that wouldn’t hinder Theta at all and just apply support, she takes a breath and then sighs, “Theta, if you stay out there a third night in a row you may very well catch your death.” Donna keeps her tone serious, not an edge of ‘light’ to it, genuine worry on her tone.

“I won’t catch my death, I’ve slept out there for longer than three nights in a row and I always take enough blankets out there for warmth.” Theta insists, wondering why Donna is even bringing it up in the first place as the woman raises her eyebrows at her with an expression that haunts her nightmares and keeps her on the narrow thin path that is having  _ morals,  _ albeit questionable ones, “Donna, I’m fine.” 

Donna rolls her eyes, “Fine, is a four letter word beginning with F.” 

“Yeah?” She ventures, keeping her eyes on her own in the mirror, lazy hazel stares back at her as Donna moves to pick up the bodice of her walking day dress, it is a shade of sleet grey that brings out her eyes, “So, what if it is? Doesn’t make it any less true.” 

She watches Donna pause, then look her over once, “Theta.” Donna begins in a questioning sort of tone that she really doesn’t like at all, she slides the bodice over her shoulders, “Have you given any thought to Lord Oakdown recently?”

“Why would I have given any thought to Lord Oakdown?” She replies and Donna stops, stares at her and rolls her eyes, wandering away again, leaving Theta to do the front of her bodice up herself as she found jewellery, “Anyway, no time to dwell on silly things like childhood friends turned lords and sleeping in barns-” 

A ‘Really?’ look cut across the room from Donna.” 

“-I have a new assistant starting today.” Theta checks the time as she finishes fastening her last button, “My Father left this morning for his next ‘Business’ trip and I’m leaving just enough time for Irving to try and convince Miss Khan into spying on me.” 

Donna, well versed and used to any and all antics that Theta could provide just rolls her eyes again, “Have you heard from Clara recently?” She asks instead.

“Clara? Oh, Clara’s fine, she’s loving Trap Street and the War Office.” Not that the latter sat right with her at all, Theta turns and sits herself down in the vanity’s seat as Donna begins to wrestle her curls into something more manageable but not too complicated, comfortable to work in, “Lady Megara and her get on like a house on fire- Actually, last I heard they had literally set a house on fire so that may not be the  _ best  _ analogy-” 

Donna cards her fingers and twists locks of Theta’s hair into complicated patterns she’d leant over the years, “Clara’s still causing trouble then?”

“Yes.” Theta sighs, letting her hands fidget with each other in her lap as she waits for her hair to be finished, “Lady Megara still hates me though, it’s not my fault I didn’t know she was robbing people blind out in Sussex.” 

Hands still for a moment, before a pin is slid in place in her hair, “That was her?”

“Mostly, she was bored and I can’t really blame her for it.” They both lapse into silence for a bit as Donna pins her hair up properly, securely, “I’ll sleep in the house tonight.” 

Her hair doesn’t shift when she turns her head to look at Donna, who studies her as if she is judging whether Theta is telling the truth or not, before they can continue their conversation however a knock sounds at the door. 

“Yes?”

“Miss, your Mother is waiting on the patio for breakfast.” She speaks quietly, soft as anything and Theta cocks her head at her, name escaping her for a moment before Donna pats her shoulder. 

Theta stands, “Lead the way, Heather.” Heather, predictably blinks before she straightens herself and nods once, leading Theta from her bedroom and down into the gardens. 

Her Mother sits there, tea steaming as she goes through letter after letter, “We’re holding a ball.” Is what she says instead of a greeting.

“A ball?”

“Yes, I’m going to find you a husband.” Lady Lungbarrow keeps making invitations, “Of course I’m not going to outright say that’s the purpose for this ball, but it must be done.”

She frowns, sitting down across from her Mother and thanking Heather as she pours her tea, “Has it occurred to you that maybe, I don’t need a Husband?” She feels her Mother pause before she sees it happen.

It is a slow kind of reaction, the kind that usually resorts in yelling, “Theta, darling, yes you do.” 

“Why do I need a husband-” She’s feeling extra confrontational today it would seem, because her Mother sits up straighter, clenches her teeth and Theta knows she’s about to start screaming at her. 

Lady Lungbarrow had never been tall, this is something Theta had been surprised by when she’d turned seventeen and surpassed her Mother in height, “Theta, I’m trying to secure your  _ future.”  _

“Then help me convince Father-”

“Leave the company behind.” Her Mother’s tone was cold, chilly and not something Theta was unfamiliar with, she picks up her pen again and starts to write another invitation, “Don’t you see, you are far more useful to your Father and I as a bargaining chip?”

Theta stills, her hand freezing mid air above a plate of toast, “What?” She whispers, searching her Mother’s face for any sign that she hadn’t said what Theta had thought-

“You are the only daughter of ours in proper marrying age, even though three more years and you will firmly be towards the spinster end of things.” Lady Lungbarrow finishes curling a name, placing this invitation in the pile with the others, “Irving has told me resolutely that he will not marry, so it will either be your son or one of your sisters in some years to come who end up controlling this estate, or worse, one of your  _ cousins.”  _

The disgust isn’t hidden in her Mother’s tone this time, she’d always detested the Irish roots of the Family.

Blinking and now filling with dread, Theta took a slice of toast, buttering it with honey on top, “Can I see the list?” She asks, quashing down the disgust that is coiling in her belly at the mere idea of it.

“Of suitors?” Her Mother’s tone changes in the blink of an eye as she holds out the long list to Theta. 

Theta takes it, unfurling it all the way, she scans through the names, some familiar like  _ Harry Sullivan  _ or  _ Jamie McCrimmon  _ who are two men that Theta has met on separate occasions and was always left with the impression that they were not only gay, but would probably only serve to frustrate her in someway.

Unlike Koschei, who may anger her but at least challenged her whilst he did it, he had wit and some passable charm after all. 

_ Ben Jackson  _ came next, Theta remembers him as mostly a member of the navy, which could serve her some interest in stories of travelling, but remained a facet of the military.

Which reminds her that she really needs to talk to Koschei about suspending his payments to fund the military in the empire if they were going to make this plan work.

She had to stop herself from laughing out loud at the sight of  _ Jason Kane  _ on the list, Summerfield would have a fit if a Lungbarrow stole him away from her, not that Irving hadn’t tried of course, Theta had heard the stories.

The list is by no means in alphabetical order, so when she reaches one of the names on the list she pauses, then lifts her eyes to where her Mother is still making invitations.

“Why is Captain Jack Harkness on here?” 

“He’s a lovely man.” 

Theta lowers the list, her Mother does not meet her eyes. 

_ Oh, he couldn’t have…  _

“Mother, did you-” But as she forms the rest of the question she hears a cane on the pathway, a familiar one that fills her to the brim with annoyance the moment she hears it.

Hearing the ornate cane on the path means two things in the long run.

One, Theta’s new assistant had definitely agreed to spy on her.

And two, Theta was about to be ignored all together, for the rest of the day, which wasn’t too bad if it didn’t mean-

“IRVING!” Theta squashes down the annoyance a bit as their Mother launches from her chair and she takes a bite of her toast.

Today was going to be a long day.

* * *

  
  
  


She finds herself being squished in between two larger people, one of home is Mr Sinclair as they look over a man who had introduced himself as Wilfred Mott, he places gears and cogs, wires and springs in a clock with ease.

“Oldest member of the workshop, been working here since just before Omega Lungbarrow died.” The man on her other side stated plainly, he was older than both her and Mr Sinclair and a bit taller, he moves suddenly as someone else pushes in, she doesn’t recognise either of them, but the group is growing.

It’s fascinating, the little clicks against the table, nearby a door opens and Yasmin finds herself turning via the crowd around her pushing and pulling.

Miss Lungbarrow stands there smiling widely at them all, “Is that the newest model Wilf?” She asks approaching them all, dressed in grey as she leans over the worktable. 

Yasmin realises that she is staring along with the rest of the workshop, before the woman turns her gaze to all of them and falters, “Good morning Miss Lungbarrow.” Yasmin greets and steps forward.

“Ah, Yasmin, I see you found the place alright.” Her smile changes, as if she’s putting on a mask and she waves to Mr Mott who salutes her back, “Shall we adjourn to my office? I trust Ryan gave you the tour?”

Mr Sinclair nods from his position next to her, “Showed her everything but the Lord’s office.” 

“Good lad, gold star.” Miss Lungbarrow takes a step towards a hallway, “What’s on the agenda today?”

He follows them both as the crowd goes back to watching Mr.Mott’s work, “Mrs Duly is coming in to consult on her husband’s watch restoration, then the antique grandfather clock is due in at two.” 

“You’ll take Mrs Duly won’t you?” He nods and Miss Lungbarrow sighs, “Good, now, Yasmin, how do you want to spend today?”

Yasmin blinks, “I would like to familiarise myself with the filing system your previous assistant set up and tidy myself a corner.” 

“Oh, you’ll have Clara’s old office.” A hand encased in white kidskin waves the concern away, Yasmin doesn’t know why but something feels off about the woman as they walk, “Now, discussion of wages, what would you like to be paid?”

She jogs a bit to keep up, “Oh, what was your last assistant on?”

“Twenty pounds a week.” Yasmin stops, the number registers but Miss Lungbarrow is already noticing her pause, “Is that too little? Ryan, is that too little?”

Mr Sinclair is quick to shake his head, “No, it’s about the same as the other apprentices get paid, my wages too.” 

“Covers rent, concessions and new supplies, as well as some comfort money.” Miss Lungbarrow keeps talking, as if she may never be quiet and continues on down the hallway, “Come along Yasmin, we have work to do!” 

She looks once to Mr Sinclair, who raises his hands up in mock surrender, “See you later, I’ll bring some tea by.” 

“Thank you.” Yasmin catches up to Miss Lungbarrow quickly, waving to him as she goes.

* * *

  
  


The office is small but cozy, it isn’t cramped and the window in the back lets the light in with ease and Yasmin sips her tea, files spread out over the small desk, biscuits sit on a plate waiting to be eaten and she can’t help but feel relaxed.

Sounds of chaos come through the door, someone yelling about a missing piece, a distinctly upbeat and non-stop chattering breaks through it all. 

Theta Lungbarrow is curious, a woman who pays her employees well and before Yasmin really thinks about it she has a blank piece of letter paper in front of her and a pen in her other hand. 

She wonders if the letter writing- The spying has to come through with the job, but she pauses before she presses the pen to the page, is she being gullible? Just going along with this? What sibling wanted to spy on their younger sister?

Yasmin wonders if she should lie in them, wonders if she’d get away with, she opens the draw next to left hand and finds some papers inside in neat handwriting she must only assume belongs to whoever  _ Clara  _ is, she seems missed if Yasmin had to guess she would say the other woman must have worked hard here. 

She takes one out, it’s a half finished letter and is dated from a little while ago. 

_ Theta is acting a little better recently, the change in atmosphere has definitely been helping along with the steady stream of news about Lord Oakdown.  _

_ Thank you for that by the way, I’ve received some misses from Lady Goria in passing as well, I hope things are functioning for you at the War Offices.  _

_ War Offices,  _ that sounded mysterious and interesting, maybe there was more to Lungbarrow then she first- 

“Miss Khan?” She starts at the sound of Mr Sinclair’s voice, shutting the draw and dropping the pen, “We’re making the lunch order, do you want anything?”

She stands up, abandoning her tea and the almost written letter, “I’d love a pasty.” He waits at the door as she walks through it, shutting the door behind her, “Lead the way?”

Mr Sinclair smiles briefly, leading Yasmin back into the bulk of the chaos. 


	10. Rings come in many forms, some are pretty and some come in pairs.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Letters to write, a brother of a suspect and a common ground.

_ “No Pressure. No Diamonds.”  _

_  
\- Thomas Carlyle _

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Her throat was a little sharp from all the wailing she’d had to do, the tea with honey she took sips of here and there did little pieces of health to it but it would take more than that.

She would have to refrain from speaking for the next few days, which would be helpful in selling her mourning, she’d already traded her colours for black.

Ushas stares at the paper in front of her, three letters to be written, three letters to be sent with varying degrees of truth to them and then funeral invitations on top of that. 

Lord Johnson’s end had not come with the overdose she’d spent a whole year planning out, no, he was killed by a  _ Mugging  _ of all things and she hated the unpredictable nature of this world.

Sometimes she wonders what lies beyond it, before she dismisses it because it is a question she doesn’t have an answer for and that would take up time that she didn’t ever have.

The funeral invitations were being made up as she spoke, she wasn’t one to dally even if it was a little suspicious, but then again she hadn’t even been in the city when her husband had died. 

Letters though, these would have to be crafted meticulously as to not arose suspicious with two of the four recipients. 

Ushas concludes that she doesn’t need to write four letters over three, due to how Koschei was bound to run to Theta with this information and vice versa, Irving would simply keep it to himself even if she asked him to share it. 

As for the fourth recipient, she didn’t hold any close acquaintance with anyone that Ushas needs involved with this situation, so Romana would receive an invitation from a lonely new widow who needed a friend in this time of sorrow.

Newcastle was now out of the question until august at the latest, which meant she needed to write to her servants to cover things up again.

She sets her tea down and lifts the pen up, spinning it in her fingertips, testing the weight in her hand, Theta and Koschei…

Did she tell them the truth? That was always the question wasn't it, will she be honest with them, honesty was something that Ushas could rarely afford to give anyone but herself after all. 

She spins her pen in her fingertips again, this was a debate she had with herself always, she knew Irving was going to be in town for a little while as well at this point so she wouldn't have to pretend like she didn't know. 

But did she tell them the full scope of trouble she was about to find herself in?

Ushas sighs, picks up her tea, sips it, places it down, pulls a piece of paper forwards and starts to write.

_ Dear Romana _

_ I hope this letter finds you in good health- _

* * *

  
  


When her brother makes no show of leaving, Theta takes things into her own hands.

Even if Irving never really bothered to leave anything of importance in his office at the workshop, she would still go over it if he stuck around for longer than a week and he had stuck around that long, it was something to pass the time and sometimes she did find things of worthwhile value.

She rummages through his draws and sorts through the files in his cabernet, pulls books from shelves and replaces them in seconds, everything will remain in a tidy state of chaos and finally, Theta turns her attention to the painting.

She cannot for the life of her place the artist, though Irving had a habit of finding paintings that were spoken only about in legend, but this one… It was against his usual tastes for this office.

The woman it portrays stands with her back to the room, piles upon piles of blonde hair with her face tucked just enough to see her nose to the side, the pose is excellent and the craftsmanship more so. 

It is rare that Irving places anything other than a landscape in this office, which is what leads her to reaching up and gripping the frame of the painting. 

"Why do you feel the need to go through my things, little sister?" Irving drawls this from the doorway and Theta spares him a glance as she continues skimming her fingers along the top of the painting. 

He takes a step just as she finds the switch, pressing it with a soft click, "Because whenever you spend more time than necessary at home it usually means you're up to something." 

"Or, I'm just here to see my sister get married." 

"Ha!" She laughs, pulling the painting away from the wall to reveal the safe, "That'll be the day, what are you up to?" 

Irving’s eyebrows raise when she looks at him and he squints, “You aren’t questioning how I know you didn’t break the engagement off?” He asks, studying her.

“Why would I?” Theta asks him in return, knowing full well that Ushas had more than likely passed on the information or if she hadn’t, Irving had just known by proxy because people tended like him were harder to fool, “Who’s the painting of?”

She presses her ear to the safe, hearing the gears click inside and her brother sighs, “Why do you ask that?”

Theta shrugs, getting the first part done, “You usually don’t place portraits in here, especially portraits of gorgeous women.” 

“Are you trying to imply something?” Her brother’s tone is flat and she turns to him as the final lock clicks itself undone next to her, “The painting was a gift from a French Dignitary, I thought it would look nice in here.” 

She stares at him for a long moment, before pulling the safe open and looking inside at…. 

“Of course you keep this empty.” 

“It was fun watching you rifle through everything when you already know there’s nothing here.” Irving claps slowly, once twice and then his hands drop, “Will you now stop being childish and talk to Miss Khan about the grandfather clock? She’s been standing in the hallway debating it for the last five minutes.” 

She starts, taking her hand away from the safe and pushing past him back into the hallway, “Yasmin?” 

The aforementioned assistant looks at them both from her position by the stairs, “Hello, the owner is here to pick up the finished clock, Miss Lungbarrow.” 

Theta presses her lips together, “Great, we’ll get that sorted, did you need anything else?”

“No… Um, are you still engaged?”

“Yes.” She states it properly, straightening up as she says it and throws a look at her brother who has laughing wrinkles already starting around his eyes, she throws a dirty hand gesture at him and tucks Yasmin into her side, “We have work to do though, so there’s no point in worrying about that.” 

Bewilder enters the younger woman’s eyes, “Right… Of course.” Yasmin says as Theta confidently leads her down the stairs. 

* * *

  
  


He knocks at least before he barges in, two steps before the door is shut again and Lord Oakdown sits himself down in the chair across from her. 

Theta stares at him for a minute, “You could have waited to come in-” 

“You were here, didn’t see the point.” He sits up straight and removes his hat, tucking his hand into his pocket and meeting her eyes, “How are you?”

She shrugs, “As well as can be expected, did you know my brother is in town?” 

“Ah, that’s why I could smell the distant disdain for my whole existence.” Lord Oakdown raises his eyebrows slightly and smiles, it’s a nice smile and in the stifling surroundings of the last few days, utterly refreshing.

He places a small, wooden blue box on the desk in front of her, she stares at it, aware that he’s staring at her all the while. 

Lord Oakdown fidgets, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on his leg.

If she had to make a guess she would say that Lord Oakdown was almost... Nervous.

"I got this back." He slides the small box towards her, "It should fit you properly, the clerk said it was a popular one for gentile brides." 

Theta cradles the ring box, looks at it and then at him as he hovers, "Do you think I'll like it?" She asks. 

Lord Oakdown rolls his eyes, "You don't have to like it." 

She fidgets with the latch on the box, “Right.” 

They lapse into silence, as she undoes the latch and opens the lid with a small  _ click.  _

Inside, set against a silken pillow is a small band made of what she is sure at first glance is platinum, three diamonds stare at her in the light, two almond cut and the third sat round in a crown of metal, lifted from the surface just enough to appear as if floating. 

“ _ Oh.”  _ She breathes, it’s simple but not plain and there wasn’t a speck of gold in sight.

Theta turns the box, she doesn’t take the ring out but she admires it all the same, “It’s beautiful.” She tells him, almost afraid to touch it. 

“So, you like it?”

She looks up at him and sees his expression, it is a bit less guarded than he would have usually left it and she feels her fingertip skim the surface of the ring, “Yes.” She answers him honestly before she can stop herself, “It’ll do.” 

“It’ll do…” He echoes, face moving back behind a self satisfied smirk that makes her eyes roll, “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

The scoff comes out before she can stop it, “I’ve definitely said nicer things to you.” 

His eyebrows raise, “Not in recent years, I have the memories stocked away to prove it.” 

“Memories mean nothing in court.” Theta sets the ring box back down, but she leaves it open, leaning back in her chair as he opens his mouth,”Wait, eyewitness accounts- Still, you have no proof.” 

He scoffs this time, “Miss Lungbarrow, I have it in written form, what do you have?”

“A matchmaking ball to get out of and- Wait,” She pauses, “what do you mean  _ Written form?”  _

Lord Oakdown ignores her, “Matchmaking ball? Who’s idea was that?”

  
  
“My Mother’s, she’s insisting I need a husband.” 

“You have one.” His nose wrinkles a little bit.

“Well, yes, but she doesn’t know that and we aren’t married yet.” She moves her gaze back down to the ring, it shines practically perfect in every way back at her, she can’t bring herself to hate it, before she looks back at him and he’s got his lips pressed together. 

His fingers tap out a tune, soundless and it reminds her distantly of drums, “Should we tell her?” 

“Should we?” 

There’s an audible pause now, the ring shines, Lord Oakdown stares at her, Theta debates how her Mother would react to the news that,  _ Sorry Mother, I was confusing you on purpose because I want to hold onto some freedom.  _

He sighs, moving his hands, “We’re going around in a circle.” His statement echoes and silently she thinks she agrees, “When is this ball supposed to happen?” 

“Next week.” 

“Ah, so just in time for me to swing in and look horribly jealous then?” Lord Oakdown leans back in his chair and tilts his head at her, she tilts her own back, “If you would like me to? Or we can elope.” 

She pauses, it wasn’t a  _ bad  _ idea per say… “Imagine the scandal.” Theta taps her fingers out on her desk, “My Mother would have a heart attack.” 

“Isn’t that a good side of things?”

Theta debates throwing her pen at him, “I’d get blamed, arrested and if Ushas doesn’t step in, killed for it.” 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing-” Her pen sails past his ear, “-just a joke dear.”

She finds herself smiling despite the odds, “I didn’t realise wishing for your fiance's death could be joked about.” 

“Haven’t you been wishing for mine?” But his smile is too wide for him to be serious, there’s an edge to it that she recognises and yet hasn’t seen in years as he stands, “Well, I have some business to attend to and you… Have a ball invitation to get me.” 

Theta finds her own smile pulling at her face more, “Don’t you want this?” She waves a hand over the ring, “Knowing you, you’ll probably do a very public and dramatic proposal.” 

“Why would I do that?” He says and she can see he’s caught a little off guard by it, her guess more than likely correct it would seem, “Keep it, better in your possession than mine.” 

She wants to ask why, but finds her hand just curling over the top of the box, “You don’t want to see me wearing it? Find out if it fits?”

“It’ll fit!” He states this, cool, calmly, assured and it takes her back a moment as his smile turns smaller and the door opens for him, “I’ll see you soon.” 

Theta looks down at the diamond sparkling through the gaps in her fingers, “See you soon.” She calls after him.

Light catching, the diamond almost seems to twinkle.


	11. Dancing Coffins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what this chapter is, or if it makes any sense, please just take it

_ “Love should be a slow burn not a wild desire.” _

_ \- Najim Uddin _

* * *

Her new routine for her day went a little bit like this.

She’d walk up to the police station in the morning, wait until they threw her out and then turn around and go to work. 

No one in the workshop cared what she wore to work as it turned out and on the days when Miss Lungbarrow was absent the clockmakers of Lungbarrow moved to train her in how to recognise various parts, teaching her what they could until she was needed elsewhere.

Every single person who assisted her was free in their information, they answered her questions without much fuss and they were honest, calm when she made a mistake though it would appear it was rare.

It helps her get into the flow of the workshop as well, the twist and the curl, each worker and apprentice a cog or a spring in this massive engine of clockwork and care.

She was a part of it too now, making appointments and overseeing deliveries of equipment, a cog in a machine. 

There was a bustling nature to it as well, men twice her size running around with wide smiles on their faces, tipping hats to her or telling her that she’d get into the police station next time. 

Despite how hectic it gets sometimes, she cannot help the fact that the workshops bring her so much peace within a moment. 

It's peaceful watching the pieces be set in place, peaceful to hear the click of the clocks as they work. 

Peaceful to watch as Mr.Sinclair studies her work on his watch, to see him smile widely and beckon Miss Lungbarrow over to look as well. 

Yasmin breathes and the cogs work together, she works with them, she fits in somewhere and that feeling is worth more than her status as an heiress in this world, more than standing on the steps of the police station defeated daily and she adores it. 

Her office is now organised to her liking and when there’s something out of place, she knows it immediately. 

Set in the center is a piece of blank paper with a pen over top of it, a silent request and she finds herself sitting down to write before she can help it but she struggles to figure out what to write. 

A report would probably work as a format. 

_ Miss Lungbarrow over the last few days has become increasingly more absent from the workshop, though she is hyperactive when she is here and her attention is almost always hyper focused on the tasks in front of her.  _

_ I am not entirely sure what exactly you wish for me to include in these letters, I know you explained it on my first day sir but what do you want out of these?  _

A knock comes to her door and when she looks up, she finds Ryan smiling at her, “So, Mr.Lungbarrow having you pick up Clara’s entire routine?” 

“How many people knew about what she did?” Yasmin asks, turning her gaze back down to the letter, “I think Miss Lungbarrow is perfectly aware of it after all.” 

Ryan takes the caution steps into her office, “We all are, we’re just quiet about it.”

“Did Clara ever lie in them?”

“Sometimes, if there is one person that likes to mess with Mr Lungbarrow it is Clara Oswald, an old man who couldn't get away with much when she was around.” Ryan leans back against her desk, looking over what she’d already written and she leans back to let him have a better look, “You could wax a bit about how chaotic Miss Lungbarrow is getting as we get closer to the ball the family is throwing.”

She blinks, “Ball?” Her question rings, he nods, Yasmin watches him reach into his jacket and pull out two envelopes, both are labelled with her name, “I’m invited?”

“Miss Lungbarrow tends to invite as many of us as she can get away with, the other one is for the Williams garden party…” Ryan is looking at her when she looks up to meet his gaze to take the envelopes,”Lady Goria presented me with the letter about a week ago now.” 

Yasmin picks up her letter opener, one dotted with the return address of the Lungbarrow estate and the other was printed on a pretty card in a delicate script, “A garden party  _ and  _ a ball? This is more my sister’s social preference you know.” 

“Both parties will have some connections at them for you to talk to.” He watches her softly, then winks as he pushes himself back off of the desk and it is bravado built out of trying to be confident over the actuality of being  _ confident,  _ “You still need to become a police officer and show all those people what you are capable of.” 

She finds herself smiling before she can really think about it, “When is this ball?”

“Next week, I’ll be there too so you don’t need to worry too much about awkward interactions or introductions.” His hands slide into his pockets as he turns towards the door, “See you later.” 

Her hands grip the invitation for the ball, “I’ll have to bring my Mother and my sister, I’ll be okay.” She sits up straighter and looks him in the eyes, “Besides, if memory serves  _ I’m  _ not the awkward one.” 

“True.” Ryan replies, hiding his sheepishness well as he finally walks back through the door of her office. 

Yasmin looks down at the invitation again, scanning the neat handwriting. 

_ You are invited to a ball on the 12th of April in celebration of spring by Lord and Lady Lungbarrow.  _

* * *

  
  


There is repetition that she is thankful for, then there is  _ dancing.  _

It’s not that Theta doesn’t know how to dance, she does, she can dance and if she says so herself she’s rather good at it… If a little out of practice. 

Still as the Dancing instructor her Mother has hired for the next week means anything, Theta is  _ definitely  _ under house arrest in a way she doesn’t want to be.

“Straighten your back.” The Instructor drones, he is a short little man and she would give anything to shove him out that window behind him everytime he so much as  _ breathes.  _

Donna is a willing dance partner as they step around the floor slowly, Donna doesn’t mind leading and then again she never has minded that part of things, it is a simple waltz that they are running through and Theta cannot help but wish for the workshop or someone who’s company wasn’t grating- The instructor, not Donna, never Donna.

“Is he as annoying to you as he is to me?” The aforementioned asks her softly, as they straighten themselves a bit and take the next turn, “Honestly, he’s worse than the one you had as a teenager.” 

Theta softly nods, unwilling to reply as her Mother hovers perceptably in the doorway watching, waiting for her to mess up or do something wrong, “Do you know what waltzes will be played next week Mother?” Is what she asks instead.

“Focus.” Her Mother snaps back, causing Theta’s eyes to roll all by themselves. 

Donna’s arm tightens around Theta’s waist as they’re instructed to prepare for a spin, predictably it goes decently and Theta only wobbles a little bit. 

“ _ Is my Mother still watching?”  _ She whispers and Donna nods, once and then twirls Theta around softly so that she can see the gaze that Lady Lungbarrow is spinning in her direction.

Disappointment shines in it and something in Theta  _ flares  _ upwards with a bit of anger.

She’s leading the dance now, Donna makes a noise of short and soft surprise as the pianist misses pressing a key and the Instructor starts yelling. 

Her Mother’s deep sigh rings through her ears, but Theta doesn’t exactly find herself caring as she carries out the steps for the dance and Donna starts to smile as they go, Theta’s in perfect timings too. 

“I don’t really need lessons.” She says out loud and Donna nods, a bit of laughter escaping the redhead’s lips. 

The Instructor makes an indignant noise and Theta finds herself grinning madly as they pull to a stop in front of her Mother, “I think I’ll be fine for the ball, don’t you, Mother?” 

Lady Lungbarrow looks at her, that same disappointment now joined by shame and for once, Theta finds it doesn’t bother her. 

“Get back to it.” Is what her Mother says before she’s disappearing down the hallway, seemingly given up.

Theta deflats, letting go of Donna’s hand and leaving the room herself, not caring about the time she still has left on her lesson. 

She was  _ sick  _ of doing things to please her parents honestly, sick of it. 

Maybe it was time to go a little crazy… A little scandalous. 

* * *

  
  


The day Ushas buried her fifth husband, it was a quiet and somber affair with very few guests and a selection of dark colours appropriate to wear to a funeral. 

She always hated the colour black, but somehow spent so much of her life in it at this point. 

The coffin was plain, understandably so and she watches it be lowered into the grave with a veil over her eyes and tears running down her cheeks, not that the tears were real of course, why should she waste real tears on a man who manhandled and spoke ill of the Queen every chance he got?

Someone falls in next to her, stoic with his hands behind his back and his hat set in a perfect line across his silhouette, sometimes, Ushas wishes she could deal with someone else from the War Office, not just Irving. 

"Is it wise? Burying your husband on the same day that your guest is due to arrive?" 

"Is it wise, Irving, to show your face at the funeral of the man who's widow is doing you a favour?" No one looks at them, the crowd still sparse after all but she’d paid for a nice enough service, “I’m going to be leaving in an hour to collect my guest, then we shall be retiring to Sheffield in preparation for the ball your Mother is throwing to punish Theta.” 

Irving doesn’t move a singular muscle, “I’ve had a dig at the office, I’m only here for the day after all, but it seems like there will be some detectives watching over you.”   
  
“I’m aware.” She keeps her tone neutral, spent, tired, “The best they have correct?”   
  
He nods once, then turns away from the grave, “I’ll see you at the ball next week.” He states this plainly, “Send Miss Heatshaven my best.” 

Ushas doesn’t watch him leave, as the casket, the coffin is covered with the first scoop of dirt. 


	12. I don't dance and other lies sold on baseball fields

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balls- BALLS. 
> 
> Dancing.... Drama... Romana... 
> 
> What more could you want?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took forever to write and I'm sorry, also this screwed up my whole update schedule but... 
> 
> Enjoy it, I love it.

_“Dance is the hidden language of the soul of the body.”_

_\- Martha Graham_

* * *

She weighs more because of the petticoats under her skirt, a bit out of fashion if you asked her. 

As she moves around her room, she debates the method of changing out of the blue velvet dress into something a bit more comfortable and to her liking, a suit maybe. 

Theta can hear the slow swell of music downstairs, guests chattering about and arriving in a crowd of people she does _not_ want to talk to, the only blessing present that her Father was nowhere near here at this current point of time. 

Her hair sits pulled tight against her head in some french hairstyle that Donna had stayed up to research and pin in place exactly as her Mother had wanted it, Theta knew that currently she was not a person in her Mother’s eyes, she was a piece of wealth to be sold away. 

She presses a hand to her bosom, the thin chain dangling the ring in the hollow of her chest and it brings a bit of comfort, a plan had been forming for the last few hours, bits and pieces here, another idea there. It would be an exposition and display of how well she could keep a secret if this went through. 

This would work, it had to _work_ because no one here knew that her Mother was pulling off the old matchmaking scheme of the high class twits who acted like they were the scum of the earth, which meant that Theta could bend it to her will if she so wished to.

Donna enters her room again, holding shoes that look uncomfortable but suitable for dancing, “Why are you going along with what your Mother wants tonight?” She asks, gesturing for Theta to sit down on the end of her bed. 

“Because it will keep her quiet.” She lets Donna slide one of the shoes on, doing up the buttons and moving onto the other one, “Also because I’m going to make sure this evening gets derailed as quickly as possible.” Donna finishes her shoes, Theta stands again, “Besides, if I behave she won’t suspect anything until it’s too late.” 

Concern knots Donna’s brow, “What are you planning, Theta?”

“You’ll see.” Is all she says as she leaves her room and takes to the staircase.

* * *

_  
  
_

As almost always, the prediction of the crowd being a bustling mess- Of which half were drunk already -is accurate and true.

Theta swipes a glass of champagne off of a passing tray and welcomes the chaotic anonymity of the assembled people, her Mother nowhere to be seen within the mess.

She can’t see Koschei yet either, not that that was important, because it _wasn’t…_ It isn’t important still in the slightest as the first dances start and people approach her for her dance card. 

Declining the odd one or two, she finds her dance card full for the first half of the evening relatively quickly, bar the one currently happening in favour of the champagne and not feeling up to small talk in the slightest.

That will not change in the slightest of course, but nevertheless she slides her free hand over the blue velvet of her dress and ignores the weight settled over her throat of a necklace too fine for her liking, in favour of the metal that hasn’t heated or cooled that lies between her breasts. 

Slowly the crowd moves, encapsulating the room carefully in a colourful array of dresses, of drunk men approaching and whispering, attempting some air of grace and poise as if no one was aware of exactly how some of them made their money or gained their titles. 

Carefully she scans the crowd now, searching and looking for something unseen by most but she would always… 

Blonde hair catches her eyes, a solid sort of colour that resembles spun gold and the french sunlight along the seine as the woman approaches, she cannot be older than twenty-five but she smiles and her face curves down younger. 

Theta almost wouldn’t question her, but Ushas trails behind her in a black evening gown that takes the poise from everyone else in the room next to the blonde in red, “Good evening, Theta.” Ushas greets with a thin smile and a widening of her arms. 

She kisses both of Theta’s cheeks, before she turns to face the blonde again, “Romana, may I introduce my dear friend Theta Sigma Lungbarrow.” 

Romana lowers herself down into a curtsey, before she rises again and Theta does the same in return, “I’ve heard about you.” Her english is perfect and unaccented, her eyes bright as she looks upon her. 

“I thought you were french?” Theta asks as she collects up her hand, presses a kiss to the back of a white lace glove, looking up at Romana with her own smile, curving it slightly in that way that always pulls a slight flush to the skin, “You don’t hold an accent.” 

She laughs, “My Father made me attend finishing school here, my Mother’s almatur, you must know how it is.” 

“I do, more or less.” Theta agrees, returning the woman’s hand to her and centering her posture a bit more, “Though, Ushas here can vouch for my swift removal from those premises.” 

Predictably, this sentence has the following eyeroll as always, “Yes, I can vouch for that.” Ushas replies, setting her hands together on her skirts, looking to Romana with a smile, “When you burn down the refectory, it hardly merits rewards.” 

“You burnt it down?” An edge enters the younger woman’s tone, “Oh, that must have been marvelous to watch- If irresponsible.” The last part sounds like it’s a quick flash of disapproval amongst a sea of excitement.

Theta decides that she likes Romana. 

“ _The smoke made pretty images in the air_ , isn’t that correct now?” Ushas’ tone has no excitement, just disapproval, not in the same tone as Theta’s parents had had back then but not better either, “The only upside following that was that we got to eat in our rooms with table service.” 

She turns to her old friend and grins, she makes sure it is cheeky enough that Ushas cannot help quirk her own lips before the woman takes a sip of champagne to hide her own smile.

“Romana, where is your dear Leela?” The widow asks, looking around the room, “She came in with us.” Blonde curls move slightly as Romana turns her head to scan the room before she stops. 

A frown briefly lines her face before it brightens, changing shape to appear as if she is deep in thought, it’s an expression that if Koschei were here, he would remark resembled Theta’s own when she got into it. 

"Could I borrow that?" Romana asks and it takes Theta a moment to realise that she points to the champagne flute in her hands, "Thank you." She mutters as Theta lets her lift it from her fingertips. 

Theta and Ushas turn to each other, then turn back to stare after the frenchman as she winds her way through the crowd, over to a brunette- Who Theta assumes to be this 'Leela' -who is talking to a man that seems familiar but she can't place him. 

"Isn't that Andred Deeptree?" Ushas murmurs next to her and Theta nods, she's right. 

She opens her mouth to reply when Romana trips on nothing and what remains of Theta's drink falls down the back of the man's coat.

The black coat grows a dark spot where the champagne lands and Theta finds herself gripping Ushas’ hand in a single moment, as they both look on at the turning of Mr Deeptree towards Romana who looks up at him with shining bright innocent eyes. 

Leela presses her lips together, taking on an expression that is easy to read in a conclusion that this is not the first time that Romana has done this. 

“I like her.” Theta murmurs as she watches Romana tilt her head and mutter apology after apology in perfect french, pretending not to understand as Mr Deeptree attempts to scold her, “Oh, Ushas, I _really_ like her.” 

Ushas nods next to her, gripping Theta’s hand into her side and leaning into Theta’s ear, “Most do, she’s quite intelligent.” 

That in itself is high praise and enough that Theta makes the conclusion that she must keep Romana in her life for as long as possible. 

Watching the events in front of them unfold is almost distracting enough to make her forget that she has a plan to uphold this evening, Koschei just needs to arrive and then it can swing into motion properly. 

It takes a moment as well, for Theta to register that a familiar height is heading through the crowd towards Romana, a familiar head is pushing into the conversation between Mr Deeptree and the young woman, speaking in completely perfect french and asking her to dance. 

“Ah, there he is.” Ushas says and declines to provide context as Irving and Romana start to dance. 

The change in decor in Irving’s office suddenly makes perfect sense. 

_  
  
_

“Mother is going to ask him how he knows her.” Theta mutters and Ushas shrugs, deftly lifting two champagne glasses off of a passing tray and handing her one, “...Are you how he knows her?”

Ushas takes a sip, adjusts her hair, “No, other way around actually, he spends far more time in Paris than I do.” 

“When did they meet?” She leans in to gossip, she usually doesn’t really like to but her brother and another person actually being acquainted is a worthy break from that rule, “Also does she know what he does? Or that he’s a collector- What about Romana? What does she do?”

There’s a long pause as Ushas takes another sip of her drink before she sighs, “Three years ago, yes and yes, Romana is highly versed in politics, even though she has a certain disdain for it.” She tucks a strain piece of hair behind her ear, “It is my understanding that Irving is courting her, though on what level of intimacy I have no clue.” 

“Genuine feeling?” Theta suggests, grinning widely and making sure she keeps a straight face as Ushas chokes on her drink.

She pauses, considering and then shakes her head, “If Irving Braxiatel Lungbarrow ever has a genuine feeling, I will tell everyone every single embarrassing thing I’ve ever seen him do.” 

“...My brother does embarrassing things?”

“Yes, he would prefer I keep them from you and… Well, we’ll see.” She finishes her champagne, raising her eyebrows and turning her gaze to the door, “More guests are arriving, how many people did your Mother invite?”

Theta presses her lips together, gritting her teeth and leaning into Ushas’ ear, “Too many if you ask me.” 

“Waiting for someone?” She starts back at Ushas’ words, the ring against her chest cold and echoing, a sharp smirk twitches across her friend’s lips as she nods once, “Thought so.” 

She turns her gaze away from Theta again, towards the dance floor where Irving is smiling at Romana who seems relatively oblivious to the… The _adoration_ in her brother’s eyes.

“I’m not waiting for _anyone.”_ She retorts, an utter lie and Ushas whilst knowing it, doesn’t question it as she places her empty glasses on a tray going by, “Just think it’s strange to see my brother showing actual emotion.” 

Ushas looks inclined to agree for just a moment, before she turns on her heel and moves into the fray of the crowd, not saying a word of goodbye but moving towards Irving and Romana as the song comes to an end nonetheless.

Theta, despite everything, doesn’t stare after her and instead directs her attention to the door again, ignoring the prickle of annoyance at Ushas being right once again.

There are three steps she takes around the room, watching them all quietly again as Ushas weaves her way through the crowd away from her and the room moves in a wave of colourful skirts, waves of mixing perfumes and the sparkling of jewels that line the throats, the wrists, the ears of the women and the tie pins of the men.

She moves slowly through the crowd gathering to watch the others dance, she catches odd pieces of conversation but she never quite latches on, Theta observes and she doesn’t interfere. 

But she _wants_ to interfere, it’s a little itch in her fingers that makes her tap out a tune on her skirt as she walks around people who laugh without her, who whisper gossip as if it is their one and only lifeline or currency. 

Interference was never allowed, or so her Mother would claim unless it really came down to hosting, but Theta smiles at the thought of propping her foot just so in a crock so that the young woman who has been looking for another woman trips and stumbles just enough to fall into her beloved’s arms. 

Or, she could spill champagne on the gentleman in the grey overcoat’s sleeve, pushing him to take his friend away from the crowd and into a hallway somewhere. 

She looks as she goes, though she isn’t going to admit to _who_ she’s looking for anytime soon, weaving through the silk, the velvet, the cotton and satin, lace tipped gloves and smooth opera gloves. 

There comes a moment, where she is observing a couple who are stumbling over their steps out of nerves- Whilst her brother and Romana sail past them with more grace than Theta has ever possessed -when there is a noticeable shift in the crowd’s attention. 

Whispers break out around her and she turns to see him, stood there in the doorway to the ballroom in a suit that is perfectly tailored to him in the way that his suits always are, purple brocade echoes itself across his waistcoat, a silver chain hanging in his pocket betraying the whereabouts of his time piece. 

She ducks her head as Koschei’s eyes move to seek her out, it is a calculated sweep as people murmur the question of why he is here, how he was invited in the first place… Theories swirling and Theta almost thinks herself in London. 

The band has started up another song, Theta remembers she has engagements for the next dances on her card and so she meets his eyes just once, for a few seconds before she curls herself back into the crowd and lets her first dance partner for the evening whisk her into a waltz. 

She doesn’t even step on this one’s toes. 

* * *

_  
  
  
_

He is not so painfully awkward that he doesn’t get invited to balls, or dinner parties or other social events that only ever come your way when your Grandmother owns a decently sized slice of land in Yorkshire and is rarely away from the gossip of society ladies due to her recent marriage to the couch driver.

But this sort of ball is different from the kind he will find himself at, the first is that he likes who has invited him in the first place which is a good reason as to why Ryan choses to show up tonight at all and a very welcome moment to pull his new suit out. 

The new suit he tugs into place as he stares at the dancing patrons of a ball taking place in a room larger than the Lungbarrow workers, they move like a clock face as well, two steps back and then a spin as the crowd moves in tandem with one another. 

He is lost in a dazzling array of colours and music, ascot at his throat and eyes searching out the form of someone familiar. 

Miss Lungbarrow is the first form he spots, she moves around the room like a ghost and doesn’t acknowledge him when she passes him in her walk though he does watch her stop when the crowd does too, when eyes turn to the door and whispers leak through next to him. 

It is when the crowd is stopping that he manages to spot Miss Khan, stood off to the side with her Mother and he wonders if her sister- Sonya, her name was Sonya wasn’t it? -was in the crowd of dancers the two were observing. 

Carefully he meets her eyes, receiving a nod of acknowledgement before she turns to her Mother and exchanges words with her. 

Ryan turns to watch the crowd, it’s a little dizzying if he has to be honest, seeing them go and switch partners for this one, a sense of jolly laughter that echoes without much of a second thought. 

People are having fun and he wants to join in but… He doesn’t know why he has a heavy heart these days but it stays around like a deeply rooted omen of things to come in this instance.

There is laughter and merriment, yet something feels off. 

As if there is a bomb somewhere in that crowd, in those people, whoever it was… having a hell of a time. 

* * *

_  
  
_

Two steps to the left, three to the right, four down the center. 

He counts them as she passes by on the arms of partner after partner, dancing, one by one and he purposely doesn’t hide himself away from Lady Lungbarrow who stares at him as if he is the salt in the sea. 

But oh, he watches Theta _dance_ like she is the ruler and he is simply a commoner in her court. 

Koschei could walk into the fray of that floor, find a partner of his own to dance with or cut in with her, no he declines all of those notions in favour of looking at her go and move across the floor.

He meets her eyes exactly once and it is a startling reminder of _her_ beauty, her grace which she has always sworn she lacks but the show in front of him says otherwise.

Two steps to the left, three to the write and a spin as the partners join hands again to return back to the main portion of the dance, he could join them, her… Find her, go to her and… 

He wonders if she knows about the gravity that lingers around her, wonders if she even considers it’s existence because despite her many denials of it all, Theta is enigmatic and electrifying all at once. 

One step, two steps, three.. 

The dance ends and Koschei is vaguely aware of a disgruntled gentleman glaring at him profusely as he cuts in, settling a hand on her waist and drawing her eyes to his as the music lifts again into the next dance, a simple waltz. 

“Good evening.” He makes sure to purr it, just to see her eyes roll. 

Theta scoffs, but matches his steps as they go, “Good evening, my Mother will throw a fit if she sees us dancing and the next gentleman on my list is now without his helpful beard.” 

“Is that what you are now? A pretty blonde beard for a gentleman of the highest authority?” Koschei side steps the foot she aims at him easily, gracefully spinning her a moment later. 

Her lips quirk, but she presses them back down into a thin line, “Isn’t that what I am for you?” He frowns and she lets a grin spread over her face, “Ours is to be a sexless marriage and if I remember correctly you do enjoy a firmer touch from time to time.” 

“Just as you enjoy a lighter one.” He pulls her in a little closer, almost enough to be obscene to whisper in her ear, “You look like you’ve been planning something.” 

She leans away from him, gripping her shoulder, “I’ve been bored, two weeks is a long time to keep up a charade of being single with my Mother.” 

“And your brother? Though I suspect he’s known for awhile now.” Koschei steps around her, blocking her from the view of her two aforementioned family members, “You can tell me you know what you're thinking, what your planning… I’m not one of your little pets, pet.” 

Theta successfully lands her foot on his this time, he hadn’t even noticed her move, “ _Companions,_ have nothing to do with this.” 

He grits his teeth, leans close again, “Are you sure? That pretty young one, your new secretary has looked at you like you are the stars twice already.”   
  
“Yasmin?” She whispers back, “No, I don’t think so… Why do you even ask?”   
  
Koschei rolls her into a spin, “No reason.” 

“Jealous?”  
  
“Hardly.” He possibly pulls her back in a little roughly, because she lands straight against him and this time he is sure it _is_ obscene, so he takes a step back, “Why would I be jealous?” 

Theta stares at him and doesn’t say anything as they take another step back into dancing, smoothly as if neither had stopped the other at all and he wonders just how long it’s actually been since he’s held her like this, even as her eyes look at him as if he has walked out of Dante’s Inferno itself.

“I don’t know.” She admits after a moment, but stops him all the same, taking a step back and turning in the direction of the band, “Maybe because they’re nicer to me than you are.” 

She throws a look at him and her earrings catch the light, matching her eyes for a moment which should be impossible and Theta hooks something from around her neck. 

He watches as she pulls the ring out on a chain, as she takes a step towards the band before he can stop her, watches as she quiets them all down. 

“Attention!” She starts and Koschei genuinely believes that she is mad for a moment, completely barking as she slides the ring off of the chain,”Firstly, I would like to thank you all for coming tonight, it has been a great honor to have received you all here, a greater honor for my Mother to summon you all.” 

The dancing is stopping and rightfully so, as Koschei stares at her in bewilderment, as he can hear the fast pacing walk of Lady Lungbarrow as she tears through the crowd towards her daughter. 

He can feel Irving’s gaze on the back of his head as Theta picks up a champagne glass from who knows where and raises it up. 

Theta stares ahead at the crowd and smiles easily, “Secondly, I would like to thank you for coming out to my engagement ball.” 

She meets his eyes now and he understands all at once, as she raises her hand and his ring shines softly in the light on her now gloveless hand. 

“To celebrate my upcoming marriage to Lord Koschei Oakdown, the love of my life.”


	13. Riot for me darling, burn like never before.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermath and I wrote this chapter half in September and half now so that's why there's probably a disconnect of understanding but I am finding it very difficult to care at this current point in time.

_ “Calm her chaos, but never silence her storm.”  _

_ \- K Towne Jr _

* * *

There are moments where Theta remembers why Koschei seems to thrive in chaos. 

She remembers now because the utter chaos that becomes of the crowd alone in her ballroom, it is a delightful swirl of muttering and the sound that comes out of her Mother’s mouth is a special kind of music that Theta wishes she had a way to keep forever.

Koschei meanwhile takes his cue and is now making his way through the crowd towards her, his head held high and a warm- but fake -smile spreading across his face. 

“We’re sorry for that pretense in the papers, you see we only wanted some time to ourselves.” He practically beams and glows out of adoration of her, it is his best mask yet in these situations as he loops her arm into his carefully and stares out at the crowd with her, “My thanks is needless to say in tune with my beloved’s.” 

For a moment, she is in awe of him picking up on her cues again but he’d always been good at that hadn’t he?

“Now, shall we return to merriment and celebration?” He calls out to the crowd, then winks at her for good measure, “Or will my lovely future wife and I be subjected to being looked at as if we are the monkeys in the Zoo?”

Quietly a laugh begins in the crowd before it is a universal joke and Koschei exchanges a long look with her, deep into her eyes and it is manufactured to look as if he is utterly and completely in love with her. 

He’s always been the better actor, it almost makes her believe it too.

The laughter washes through the room and Theta knows that for now she’s won the war with society. 

Her Mother on the other hand, looks completely  _ murderous  _ from where she stands in the crowd looking at them both with fury that would burn even the sun. 

As the laughter continues, Koschei offers her his hand to draw her back onto the dance floor with ease and a wide smile that she attempts to match the brightness of as much as she can and the band starts up again. 

He’s still smiling as he draws her back into a dance, in time with everyone else and when they turn she catches her Mother’s eye again, there’s more than a bit of disappointment curling through the gaze but Theta just smiles. 

“So, that was entertaining but is there a reason you decided to do that or…?” Koschei mutters it quiet as anything next to her ear and she turns to look at him with raised eyebrows, her smile unwavering but her lips starting to hurt, “I’m not complaining, it was an excellent way of revealing it all.” 

She pats his shoulder, “I felt like taking a page out of your book- Though I know I should be careful when doing that.” 

His own eyebrows raise, “Why should you be careful?”

“Well.” Theta pauses, contemplating for a moment before pulling him to a stop, “It’s not like you have much in that book to begin with.” 

Koschei wraps his hand around hers and pulls her into a small curl of a spin, making her skirt flare a little bit before she catches his smile falter, “My life story is longer than you’d think,  _ love.”  _

“I said your  _ book  _ not your life story,  _ love.”  _ She adds the same inflection he does and the smile on her face twists to a smirk. 

For a moment as he smirks back at her for a moment, hands touching, Theta thinks that  _ maybe  _ living with him for the rest of her life wouldn't be so bad. 

But then he winks and she decides that actually yes, it would.

It dawns on her slowly, what exactly she’s done now of course, as he twirls her around the floor and she fights to keep the smile on her face so not to betray her thought process. 

She wanted control. 

  
She had it. 

…Didn’t she?

* * *

  
  


When he takes her hand it is with a gentle sort of curl, a chance to remove it from his grasp as they step in time with the music and Mr Sinclair places his gaze firmly on his feet.

Her Mother studies them both from the side as Sonya is returned by a blushing young gentleman, who seems utterly infatuated with her sister but her sister stares after her and cocks her head.

“Should I make it clear to yer Mum when we get back to her that I have no interest in marrying you?” She snaps her attention to Mr Sinclair as they turn with the bow of the crowd dancing.

Yasmin smiles, “Mum knows, no need, she’s practical and isn’t expecting Sonya or me to get married anytime soon.” 

She can feel his shoulders ease a little bit and he smiles softly, “That’s good, not that you are um…” 

“I get it.” She pats his shoulder, his tension eases all the way as he turns her into a spin a little late in timing, “Thank you for making sure I got an invite to this, my sister’s having a good time.” 

They move a little awkwardly into the next turn, “Are you?” He asks her, eyebrows pinching just a little in what she thinks is worry, “I think it’s a little obvious that your sister is enjoying herself but…”

“I’m enjoying myself, Mr Sinclair.” She surprises herself with how softly it escapes her, it’s nice to have someone looking out for her comfort in a social setting. 

He nods and they spin with the crowd, breaking away from one another to step in time and they grin at each other for all but a moment before the moment is gone and the dance nears its end. 

When they return, Yasmin is surprised to find her sister still there and standing up taller with more posture, “Yasmin, who’s your friend?” She asks and her tone of voice clues her in immediately to what must be running through her sister’s mind. 

It is her Mother who steps forwards, “Sonya, you remember Mr Sinclair? His family owned the townhouse a few doors down from us back when you were both children.” The introduction is simple. 

Sonya pauses, thinking, “I do believe I remember you, were you the one who threw that cat out of the window?” Her tone is innocent but her sister is smart and Yasmin fights the urge to grab his hand and pull him back into the crowd as the connections are made in her Mother’s head.

“Mrs Davidson’s cat?” Her Mother’s tone shifts between anger and humour, before settling firmly on mirth. 

Mr Sinclair looks sheepish, “I may have had a hand in that… Yeah.” 

Yasmin smiles at her Mother, her Mother laughs and Sonya grins widely at Ryan with the full force that would usually make a poor gentleman fall for her sister completely. 

Though Ryan doesn’t look at her sister, not once. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


People congratulate him, barely sparing a glance to Theta as they go, a quick greeting and handshake, a kiss to her hand if she’s lucky. 

Mostly the attention Theta receives is from women coming up and complimenting her on her dress and on the match. 

Koschei is very aware of where Theta’s hands are tucking themselves into the fold on his elbow, with a grip that is tight but appears loose or more to that of a woman completely enamored with her finace. 

He is reminded of course, that it is all an illusion when her eyes cut to him quickly and then away again as she talks about how she had no idea about what the ring would look like and yes, she did enjoy the time out of the spotlight. 

The temptation to be petty and tease her is growing the longer that they converse with people, but as this group moves on, her shoulders grow more tense and quietly he leans into her ear, “Should we get some air?”

He waves off the approaching guests before she can answer and leads her towards the door, when he looks at Theta again she stares at him with so much irritability in her face that he almost suggests fisticuffs right here in the hallway. 

“Are you alright?” Koschei whispers out towards her, as they move further from the ballroom and the crowd, listening ears no longer within shot for gossip, “Honestly, a public declaration like that takes a lot out of anyone, I know I complimented you on it but on reflection it does mean that we can’t-” 

She interrupts him, she always interrupts him, “Can’t what? Escape our plan now? Now that everyone knows? Surely it means my Mother will lay off of the potential suitors and making me out to be a show pony-” Her tone is louder than his, but only by a tad and for a moment he lets himself enjoy her annoyance, before it snaps away, “-I got control.”

This is definite and not a whisper as she pulls her hands away from him and steps away. 

“That you did, only now if we did want to break it off it looks worse and far more damaging to our reputation-” 

“Our reputation?” She laughs and it is dry, no more joy and the lack of a crowd doesn’t help him here as her posture rights itself up straighter and Theta meets his eyes, “Honestly, that’s all you care about isn’t it? Your image, your reputation and what it means for  _ you.”  _

He glares at her and takes a step back into her space, that just appears to rear up a little more, “I’m sorry, but which one of us just set a live grenade off in the middle of a gossiping pool of  _ idiots.”  _

Her eyes spark, rage and for a moment he is caught like the light in them, as they shine and silence reigns for a moment, before she steps back from him, “I took a calculated risk.” 

“A calculated- When have you  _ ever  _ made a calculated risk in your life? Huh Theta?” He knows his voice is rising and she huffs, spinning on her heel and marching down the hallway, seemingly set in not finishing this argument. 

Naturally, he is set in finishing it… And winning. 

“Or how about just a risk?” She steps out into the gardens as his words echo out, “You know for a moment there I had thought we were on the same page…” 

She spins towards him, a wash of blue velvet in the night air, “Well, so did I, before I realised that…” 

“Realised that?” He prompts as she freezes, hair curling around her face in the slowly chilling spring evening, “Theta-” 

  
Her back steels again, “I shouldn’t have done that, not like that… I can’t escape now can I?” Her tone is quiet, “What have I done-” 

Koschei cannot tell if she is talking to him or to herself now, “Theta-” 

“Don’t.” It’s a hiss through her teeth, as she crosses her arms shivering a little bit, “I…” 

Now it dawns on him too, what exactly she’s done. 

“We’re trapped.” He whispers across the open air to her, the music from the ball carrying to them where they stand, “....We’re trapped.” He repeats. 

Theta looks at him again, finally, “We’re trapped.” She confirms. 

So much for control. 


End file.
